8® 


c<&$; 


'BRARY 

or 


PRIVATE  LIBRARY  OF 

H.    SCOF^IELD, 

No, 


7/YY 

II  L 


(MMl 


DEVOTIONAL  POEMS. 


BY 


K    T.    CON  BAD. 


'  JOT  AND  GLADNESS  SHALL  BE  FOUND  THEREIN,  THANKSGIVING,  AND  THE 
VOICE  OF  MELODY."— Isa.  li.  3. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.   B.   LIPPINOOTT  &  CO. 
1862. 


•All 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1862,  by 
J.  ALFRED  EISENBREY, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  Statee  in  and  for  the 
Eastern  District  of  Pennsylvania. 


CI53 


TO  MRS.  ELIZA  CONRAD. 


FROM  thee,  pure  source  of  Conrad's  birth, 
Arose  his  virtues ;  through  thee  ran 

Whatever  heavenly  gleams  of  worth 
Above  us  dignified  the  man. 

By  thee  his  childish  soul  was  taught, 
His  nobler  instincts  brought  in  play, 

That,  while  with  darkened  days  he  fought, 
Flashed  outward  through  his  mortal  clay. 

What  if  they  cry,  who  pry  and  probe, 
"  Lo  !  here  a  speck,  or  there  a  flaw  !" 
He  scorned  the  dust  upon  his  robe 

Far  more  than  any  one  who  saw. 

3 

496 


DEDICATION. 

The  dust  lie  gathered  on  his  path 
Was  common  dust, — what  skirt  is  clear  ? — 

He  shook  it  off,  in  holy  wrath, 

Ere  to  God's  presence  he  drew  near. 

0  merciful  and  patient  God, 

We  trust  these  songs  of  faith  and  love, 

Pleading  for  him  beneath  the  sod, 
Have  moved  as  only  song  can  move  ! 

And  that  the  soul  Thy  bounteous  hands 
Gave  to  his  mother,  free  from  stain, 

Before  Thy  face  transfigured  stands, 

From  tainting  earth  washed  pure  again  ; 

So  that  she  too  may  come  before 

Thy  mercy-seat  quite  reconciled, 
And  to  her  bosom  take  once  more 

The  early  memory  of  her  child  ! 

I,  as  he  wished,  and  in  his  name, 

To  thee,  whose  love  o'erruled  his  fate, 

This  last,  best  chaplet  of  his  fame 
Thus  solemnly  do  dedicate. 

G.  H.  B. 

PHILADELPHIA,  July  1,  1862. 


PREFACE. 


THE  poems  contained  in  this  volume  need  neither 
preface  nor  apology.  A  word  of  explanation,  however, 
may  be  due  to  the  reader  for  the  unfinished  condition  of 
some  of  them.  My  lamented  friend,  Conrad,  left  behind 
him  a  mass  of  manuscript  poems,  which,  fortunately,  fell 
into  the  possession  of  one  who  cherished  his  memory  with 
filial  affection  and  the  relics  of  his  genius  with  commend 
able  pride.  Among  many  fragmentary  works,  which  were 
carefully  examined  and  arranged  by  the  hands  to  which 
they  were  committed,  was  found  the  present  volume  of 
devotional  poems.  The  manuscript  was  submitted  to  me 
for  such  revision  as  might  better  adapt  it  for  publication. 
I  found  little  to  criticize,  and  nothing  that  I  presumed  to 
amend.  It  is  placed  before  the  reader  in  the  precise 

5 


6  PREFACE. 

state  in  which  it  was  left  by  its  author.  I  have  interfered 
in  no  way  with  the  original  design.  In  my  opinion,  it 
would  be  something  like  sacrilege  to  retouch,  however 
lightly,  a  work  that  addresses  itself  more  directly  to  the 
religious  than  to  the  artistic  sense. 

I  can  but  regret  that  the  author  was  not  spared  to 
finish  a  labour  thus  admirably  begun,  and  whose  purpose 
is  so  thoroughly  interwoven  with  the  holiest  aspirations  of 
the  mind.  Those  who  knew  Conrad,  and  were  admitted 
to  the  privilege  of  his  unselfish  friendship,  will  pause  over 
these  memorials  of  his  solitary  hours  with  thoughtful 
reverence,  and  will  recognize  in  them  the  hidden  motives 
that  influenced  his  social  relations  and  gave  birth  to  the 
lofty  sentiments  that  inspired  his  oratory  and  won  deserved 
applause  for  his  dramatic  writings. 

God  has  more  secret  worshippers  than  are  known  to  the 
world.  It  is  well  for  us  to  understand  that  one  whose 
whole  life  was  apparently  passed  in  the  bustling  ambition 
of  public  affairs,  had  yet  in  his  inmost  heart  a  sanctuary 
which  was  devoted  to  the  purer  service  of  heaven,  into 
whose  solemn  recesses  nothing  worldly  intruded,  and 
before  whose  shrine  his  troubled  spirit  found  rest  and 
consolation.  I  confess  that  I  cannot  look  upon  these 
poems  with  dry  eyes.  I  pity  the  friend  of  Conrad  who 
can.  I  see  in  these  upward  struggles  of  his  soul  the 
workings  of  a  nature  that  sought  to  purify  itself  before  its 


PEEFACE.  7 

Maker ;  that  stood  amid  the  fierce  rebellions  of  life  loyal 
to  that  fundamental  religious  sentiment  which  under 
lies  all  poetic  minds ;  and  that,  through  every  phase 
of  its  existence,  preserved  some  trace  of  the  heavenly 
brightness  of  its  source.  Here  is  the  key  to  much  that 
was  not  understood  in  Conrad's  character  even  by  those 
who  knew  him  best.  His  passionate  enthusiasm  in  a  just 
cause, — his  scorn  of  wrong  and  of  wrong-doers, — his  faith 
ful  and  tender  friendship, — his  patience  under  adversity, — 
his  tolerance  of  well-meant  rebuke,  even  from  the  lips  of 
his  intellectual  inferiors, — all  these  qualities  are  the  natural 
expressions  of  a  soul  that  could  bear  to  be  alone  with  its 
God ;  and  which,  in  that  awful  solitude,  had  been  taught 
its  zeal,  its  pride,  its  affection,  its  endurance,  and  its 
Christian  humility. 

There  is  a  lesson  contained  in  this  volume  which  no 
one  should  slight.  It  is  the  most  solemn  that  can  be 
taught  by  Conrad's  eventful  life.  It  is  more  convincing 
than  his  most  logical  argument,  more  eloquent  than  his 
most  brilliant  oration,  more  moving  than  his  deepest 
tragedy,  more  consoling  than  the  sweetest  of  his  earlier 
poems.  It  would  be  a  poor  compliment  to  the  reader's 
discernment  to  pursue  a  theme  so  obvious.  Suggestions 
such  as  these  are  better  developed  in  the  silence  of  a 
man's  own  heart, — when  the  tongues  of  his  sinful  fellow- 
mortals  are  at  rest,  when  the  delusions  of  his  senses 


8  PREFACE. 

have  lost  their  power,  and  when  his  soul  stands  in  the 
same  relation  toward  its  Maker  as  the  soul  of  the  author 
stood  in  the  act  of  composition.  Whatever  may  be  the 
moral  effect  of  this  lesson  on  those  who  survive  him,  it 
cannot  fail  to  deepen  their  respect  and  affection  for  his 
character,  and  to  shed  a  fresh  and  enduring  fragrance 
around  the  memory  of  Conrad. 

G,  H.  B. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

To  MRS.  ELIZA  CONRAD.     BY  G-.  H.  BOKER...  3 


PREFACE.     BY  G.  H.  BOKER 5 

SINAI. 

The  Mount 15 

Deity 17 

Image-Worship 25 

Blasphemy 31 

The  Sabbath 35 

Filial  Piety 40 

Homicide 47 

Incon  tinency 61 

Improbity 64 

Calumny 71 

2  9 


10  CONTENTS. 

SONNETS  ON  THE  LORD'S  PRAYER.  PAGE 

Pater  Noster 79 

Qui  es  in  Ccelis 81 

Sanctificetur  Nomen  tuum 83 

Veniat  Eegnum  tuum 85 

Fiat  Voluntas  tua,  sicut  in  Ccelo,  ita  etiam  in  Terra  ..  87 

Panem  nostrum  quot idianum  da  nobis  hodie 89 

Et  remitte  nobis  Debita  nostra,  sicut  et  nos  remitti- 

mus  Debitoribus  nostris 91 

Et  ne  nos  inducas  in  Tentationem 93 

Sed  libera  nos  ab  illo  Malo 95 

Quia  tuum   est   Regnum,  et  Potentia,  et  Gloria  in 

secula.     Amen .-. 97 

BIBLE  BREATHINGS. 

Benedictus 101 

Death  the  Deliverer 104 

The  Last  Shadows 110 

Birthday  Greetings 112 

Satan's  Hypocrite 115 

A  Plea  for  the  Persecutor 119 

Advent 121 

The  Devoted 123 

"Be  of  good  cheer:  it  is  I !" 127 

A  Thought 130 

Wisdom's  Ways 131 

The  Joy  of  Worth .  133 

The  Stricken t  135 


CONTENTS.  11 

BIBLE  BREATHIXGS. 

Eeligion  and  Morality 138 

Work  while  it  is  Day 140 

Life  of  the  Kighteous., 143 

The  Absent.— A  Sonnet 146 

Sonnet  to  S.  A 148 

The  Angel  and  the  Infant 150 

The  Infinite 153 

Matin  Anthem 160 

Vesper  Notes , 163 

The  Christian's  Trust 165 

Sin  no  more 168 

Sonnet 170 

The  Lingering  Winter 172 

Sonnet  on  the  Death  of  an  Aged  Christian •  175 

NOTES .  177 


SINAI. 


saiii  unto  jjiin:  3f  ttjon  milt  enter  into  life,  keep  ttje  eararaaniiinents. 

MATT.  xix.  17. 


©he 


And  Moses  brought  forth  the  people  out  of  the  camp  to  meet 
with  God;  and  they  stood  at  the  nether  part  of  the  mount.  And 
Mount  Sinai  was  altogether  on  a  smoke,  because  the  Lord  de 
scended  upon  it  in  fire :  and  the  smoke  thereof  ascended  as  the 
smoke  of  a  furnace,  and  the  whole  mount  quaked  greatly.  And 
when  the  voice  of  the  trumpet  sounded  long,  and  waxed  louder 
and  louder,  Moses  spake,  and  God  answered  him  by  a  voice. 

EXODUS,  xix.  17,  18,  19. 


I. 

'Tis  day  :  but  conscious  morning  dares  not  shine ; 
And  Sinai's  storm-scarr'd  brow  frowns  dimly  down 
Upon  the  host  before  that  mountain  shrine : 
Far  o'er  the  desert,  with  their  God  alone, 
Tribe  upon  tribe,  and  tent  o'er  tent,  are  strown 
The  pilgrim  people.     Anxious  age  is  there ; 
Glad  childhood,  hushed  with  awe  till  now  unknown  ; 
Worn  warrior,  matron  pale,  and  maiden  fair : 
All  upward  gaze,  and  breathe — but  hardly  breathe — a 
prayer. 

15 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


II. 


He  cometh !     Lo,  unearthly  fires  alight 
Upon  the  shuddering  mountain ;  and,  on  high, 
Involving  smoke  pavilions  from  the  sight 
The  fatal  glory.     O'er  the  quivering  sky, 
Quick  and  convulsed,  the  panic  lightnings  fly ; 
High  Horeb  staggers  'neath  the  thunder- stroke ; 
The  loose  rocks  roll  from  quaking  Sinai, 
When  hark!    A  voice— it  stills  the  thunder— spoke ; 
Loud  and  more  loud;  and  thus  the  syllabled  cataract 
broke ! 


JE  am  tfj*  SUrfc  %  <EcQ&.     &tou  afjalt  fjafo  no  otfjtr  so&s  fate  m*. 


I. 

I  AM  the  Lord  thy  God !     Oh,  well  might  heaven 
Veil  its  dimm'd  brow,  and  rebel  earth  turn  pale ! 
For  nor  to  man  nor  seraph  e'er  were  given 
Words  like  to  these.     And  still  those  tones  prevail, 
Seas  to  the  sky,  the  mountain  to  the  dale, 
And  world  to  world,  repeat  them  endlessly ; 
Infinity's  unbourn'd  recess  the  tale 
Reverberates ;  and,  o'er  a  shoreless  sea, 
Time   bears   the   echo   on   to   awed   Eternity! 

3  17 


18  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

II. 

If  hush'd  were  grateful  Nature's  loud  acclaim ; 
Could  heaven,  and  earth,  and  ocean  all  be  still ; 
Nor  life,  death,  matter,  spirit,  speak  His  name  ;— 
Yet  would  the  whisper'd  truth  the  bosom  fill, 
And  murmuring  conscience  force  the  dotard  will 
To  own  the  Lord  is  God.     And  false  are  they 
Who  gaze  upon  the  sun  whose  glories  thrill 
The  air  and  earth,  and  feign  to  doubt  the  day. 
The  fool's  heart1  is  a  lie :    the  eyeless  feel  its  ray. 


in. 

A  petted  madness  !     Conscience,  from  its  cell, 
Sees  each  doubt  rise,  and  flicker  to  and  fro : 
'Tis  the  steam  Stygian  of  the  heart's  deep  hell ; 
Or  the  poor  pride  that  would  a  shadow  throw, 
By  thrusting  its  mote  mind  before  the  glow 
And  glory  of  its  God ;  or  wit  insane, 
That  builds  dim  Babels  on  the  world  below, 
To  scale  the  heavens ;  and,  dizzy  with  its  pain, 
Mistakes,  for  wheeling  worlds,  its  wild  and  whirling 
brain. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  19 

IV. 

All  hearts  acknowledge, — let  all  hearts  adore ! 

For  that  He  is  THE  God,  it  is  His  due  ; 

Of  Space,  with  spheres,  like  dew-drops,  sprinkled 

o'er, — 

Space  to  whose  bounds  no  seraph  wing  e'er  flew,— 
Spheres  age"d,  when  Eternity  was  new. 
Bow — for  he  is  OUE  God — before  His  throne, — 
A  God  of  love  to  those  His  will  who  do. 
Of  all  Creator,  bend  to  Him  alone  ; 
For  we  are  His, — He  made  us, — His,  and  not  our  own. 


v. 

He  is  our  Sovereign ;  worship  Him  with  awe ; 
The  First,  the  Last,  the  Universal  Lord : 
His  will  the  only  power,  the  only  law ; 
All  things  are  blest  as  with  that  will  they  chord, 
For  it  was  with  the  Word,  and  was  the  Word ; 
The  harmony  by  whose  almighty  tone 
The  deep  heart  of  the  universe  is  stirr'd ; 
The  tie  that  knits  the  known  to  the  unknown ; 
Faith,   Hope,  earth,  heaven,  and  all,   to   the   eternal 
throne. 


20  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VI. 

All  happiness  is  harmony  with  heaven  ; 

All  that  invades  that  harmony  is  woe : 

And  the  space-spanning  symphonies  are  riven 

Ev'n  by  ill  thoughts,  that  stir  the  heart's  hush'd 

flow, 

As  lakes  are  stirr'd  by  night  winds  whispering  low ; 
The  touch  a  discord,  and  the  voice  a  wail. 
War  against  God,  and  insect  man  his  foe ! 
Better  the  pale  mist  war  against  the  gale : 
At  guilt   so   darkly   rash  well  may   creation   pale. 


VII. 

As  Nature  prompts,  in  every  age  and  clime, 
Bow'd  before  Nature's  God  the  wise  and  good, 
The  cherish'd  children  of  all  honour'd  Time : 
And  thus  it  must  be.     Ev'n  the  Atheist  would 
Trust  not  an  Atheist  with  a  brother's  blood. 
Who  knows  not  God,  knows  nothing  but  despair ; 
Nor  feels,  whose  heart  throbs  not  with  gratitude; 
That  thought, — that  throb !    all  life  should  centre 

there, — 
All   earth   an   altar  be,    and  incense   all   the   air. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  21 

VIII. 

Tis  spoken,  Thou  shalt  have  no  gods  but  me  ! 
Yet  are  they  gender'd  in  the  seething  brain, 
Like  monsters  in  the  slime  of  Nile :  we  see 
Creations  of  Philosophy  inane, 
Phastasma  shapeless  rise  as  gods  to  reign : 
Mystery  and  Chance  contend  about  the  throne ; 
While  Substance,  Order,  Thought,  the  strife  maintain. 
A  breath  ! — the  shadows  melt ; — God  reigns  alone ; 
The  dream  is  fled ; — Alas,  the  dreamer  is   undone ! 


IX. 

A  deathlier  chill  the  gods  of  old  inspire  : 
Adramelech,  whose  incense  was  the  gore 
Of  infants  hissing  in  his  altar-fire  ;3 
Moloch,  the  mighty,  horrible,  and  hoar, 
Whom  Israel's  sage  and  sorrow  bow'd  before  ;4 
Dagon,  o'erwhelm'd  in  Samson's  earthquake  throe  ;•"' 
Baal  and  Ashtaroth,  whom  to  adore6 
Israel  forsook  the  living  God :  and  lo  ! 
She  stands,  in  stricken  wrath,  a  wonder  and  a  woe ! 


22  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

X. 

Nor  less  abhorr'd  Olympus'  motley  crowd, 
Its  human  power  and  passion  deified : 
Salacious  Jove,  and  Mars  the  crimson-brow'd; 
And  dusky  Vulcan,  with  his  wanton  bride ; 
The  mirth  of  monsters,  war,  and  lust,  and  pride ; 
Folly  and  guilt  empyreal  and  sublime ! 
Their  heaven  a  den  with  reeking  orgies  dyed ; 
And  earth  their  scene  of  foul  and  frolic  crime, 
Where,  beasts,  they  raged  in  blood,  or,  reptiles,  roll'd 
in  slime.7 


XI. 

Yet  to  such  gods,  in  earth's  vile  spume  engendered, 
Have   bow'd   bright   minds  and  natures  pure  and 

high; 

Ev'n  Sophroniscus'  son8  and  Tally  render'd 
The  shuddering  faith  they  dared  not  all  deny  : 
The  lyre  was  swept,  as  thunder  sweeps  the  sky, 
To  them ;  and  Phidias'  wizard  chisel  woke 
A  life  that  would  not,  with  their  frail  gods,  die. 
So  idle  human  wisdom  !  until  spoke 
The  living  God;  and  Truth's  eternal  Day-Spring  broke. 


DEVOTIONAL    TOEMS.  23 

XII. 

Ev'n  'neath  that  blessed  light  lost  man  essays 
To  throne  his  dust-born  deities  on  high : 
A  million  hearts  the  Arab  sluiced  to  raise 
His  sensual  monster  to  the  startled  sky ; 
O'er  fourth  the  globe  still  Allah  is  the  cry, 
Nor  from  the  sin  are  lands  more  favour 'd  free ; 
Worms  from  their  fellow- worms  remission  buy ; 
Creatures  to  sinful  creatures  bend  the  knee  ;— 
Of    death   and   dust   and   bones   the   dull   idolatry. 


XIII. 

This  world, — how  many  gods  doth  it  behold ! 
How  many  votaries  soul-fed  altars  rear 
To  Pleasure,  Power,  to  Glory,  or  to  Gold,— 
As  if  there  were  no  other  God  to  fear ! 
How  many  raise  heart-idols, — justly  dear, 
But  fatal,  worshipp'd,  whatsoe'er  they  be, — 
Where  He  should  reign,  with  not  a  rival  near ! 
God,  the  One,  living  God,  doth  He  not  see  ? 
'Tis  spoken  :   Thou  shall  have  none  other  gods  but  me 

J-  c/ 


21  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

XIV. 

The  Lord  our  God  is  one  Lord  ;9    He  is  light, 
In  Him  there  is  no  darkness,  nor  can  be  ;10 
His  judgments  are  a  great  deep  ;u  and  His  might 
Greater  than  noise  of  many  waters  ;12  He 
'Tis  that  inhabiteth  eternity.13 
He  is  the  Lord,  and  changeth  not.14     His  eye 
Beholds  the  nations  ;15  but  remembereth  we 
Are  dust.16     To  know,  to  love  the  Lord  on  high, 
Is   all  for   which   'tis   wise   to   live,   or  well  to  die ! 


gfalt  not  mafa  unto  tb«  anj  grafon  tmaa*,  or  ang  Itfemas 
of  anj  t&tna  tjjat  15  in  fcafon  afcofa,  or  tfiat  is  in  tfa  mtf)  faiueatf), 
or  tfjat  15  tn  tfje  ioattr  unlrw  tfc  tartf) :  ^ou  5^alt  not  ioto  ioton 
t^sHf  to  tfjtm,  nor  suit  tfjcm :  for  JE  tftt  lort  t5s  (5o*r  am  a  jealous 
(&oir,  Martina  t&«  tntquttD  of  t^t  fatftws  upon  t^  4il&nn  unto  tij* 
t^trt  antj  fourtf)  amration  of  tfuem  tftat  fiatt  me ;  an&  ^ofatna  nuertj 
unto  tftousante  of  tttm  tfjat  loit  nu,  anir  ft^ep  mj 


I. 


G-OD  is  a  Spirit,  and  should  be  adored 
In  spirit  and  in  truth ;  but,  lost  to  good, 
The  soul  yields  not  such  worship  to  its  Lord  : 
From  upas-trees  may  myrrh  or  balm  exude  ? 
The  pool  whose  waters  long  have  lifeless  stood, 
Black  and  polluted,  stirr'd  not  by  the  wing 
Of  bird  or  breeze,  reflects,  from  its  dull  flood, 
No  gleam  of  heaven ;  though  morn  its  glories  bring, 
Or   night   its   diamond   wealth,  with   lavish   bounty, 
fling. 

4  25 


26  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

II. 

Conscious  of  fluttering,  like  a  wither'd  leaf, 
Upon  the  breath  of  some  mysterious  fate, 
Trembling  with  weakness,  and  subdued  by  grief, 
Man  would,  with  prayers,  that  power  propitiate. 
So  prone  his  soul,  in  this  his  fallen  state, 
He  downward  looks  for  Grod :  but  should  some  ray 
Uplift  his  brow,  he  shrinks,  in  fear  or  hate, 
From  the  pure  radiance  of  the  sky  away, 
To  gods  more  like  himself,  and  hails  his  kindred  clay. 


ill. 

'Tis  first,  perchance,  the  medium  of  his  prayer, 

Or  likeness  of  Him  who  no  likeness  hath 

In  heaven  nor  earth,  in  water  nor  in  air, 

Th'   Unseen    and   Unconceived !    whose    righteous 

wrath 

Sweepeth  the  mockers  from  its  whirlwind  path : 
But  soon,  no  more  a  type, — 'tis  Deity ! 
They  bend  before  it,  with  a  sottish  faith, 
Whether  the  sun  or  stars,  the  earth  or  sea, 
Reptile,  beast,  bird, — no  thing  too  base  a  god  to  be ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  27 

IV. 

To  draw  near  unto  God  is  to  retrace 
Man's  wanderings  from  primeval  bliss  :  To  bow 
To  earth-made  idols  than  himself  more  base, 
Is  with  a  deadlier  curse  to  brand  his  brow, 
And  sink  his  nature  that  of  fiends  below ; 
For  they  believe  and  tremble.     Hence  God's  first 
And  fearfullest  threats  of  vengeance  and  of  woe 
Upon  the  grovellers  and  their  offspring  burst, 
Who   make    them    mimic    gods,    and   bow   to    earth 
accurst. 


v. 

The  heart  of  man!  it  is  a  fearful  thing; 

A  soil  whose   germs,  though  warm'd  by  Heaven's 

pure  sun, 

And  water'd  by  Truth's  never-tainted  spring, 
Eipen  to  fruitage  for  the  evil  one ! 
Alas,  the  frailty  of  a  race  undone ! 
That,  from  a  faith  so  holy  and  so  high, 
Could,  when  their  round  six  centuries  had  run, 
Lapse  back  to  idols  fashion 'd  for  the  eye, 
To   wood   and   stone   and   paint-dark   iconolatry ! 


28  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VI. 

What  was  the  spirit — was  it  good  or  ill  ? — 
That  bade  Irene,  for  her  king  and  mate, 
With  the  death-draught  the  treacherous  chalice  fill, 
And  o'er  his  blacken'd  corse,  with  bigot  hate, 
Hasten  the  edict  of  her  people's  fate, — 
Death  to  all  those  who  worshipp'd  God  alone  ? 
And  what  were  they — or  saints  or  fiends  ? — who  sate 
At  Nice,  to  seal  that  deed  of  horror  done, 
And  bathe  with  martyr-blood   their  blocks  of  wood 
and  stone  ?1 


VII. 

But  Murder  paled;  for  lived  their  prince, — her  son  : 
Must  he  too  die  ?     The  tigress  dooms  her  child ! 
Woo'd  to  the  breast  that  nursed  him,  he  is  won, — 
And  lost!  by  Nature's  holiest  plea  beguiled. 
Upon  his  birth-couch,  as  he,  slumbering,  smiled, 
She  guides  the  assassin's  daggers  to  his  eyes  ; 
His  shrieks  the  arch'd  roof  echoes  wide  and  wild : 
Stony  and  stern,  the  murd'ress  mocks  his  cries ; 
Though   horror   shakes   the   earth    and  shrouds    the 
startled  skies ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  29 

VIII. 

And  thus,  o'er  trampled  Nature,  madly  driven, 
By  monkish  monsters  and  by  demons  led, 
To  tear  their  Maker  from  His  throne  in  heaven, 
And  raise  their  graven  mockeries  in  His  stead, 
Women  unsex'd,  the  earth  to  faintness  bled. 
Irene,  Theodora,  murder-hued, 
(The  savage  sorceress  rose  a  saint,  when  dead !) 
Peopled  the  skies  with  deities  of  wood ; 
While    monks    their    idol-rites   with    guiltless   blood 
embrued. 


IX. 

Dark  is  the  curse  a  jealous  God  hath  spoken ; 

And  darkly  in  the  spirit's  awful  night, 

In  vice  and  war  and  woe,  that  curse  hath  broken ! 

Idolatry  and  Ignorance  unite 

The  race  to  crush  and  curse,  debase  and  blight; 

The  other  each  reflecting,  as  the  wave 

The  storm-rent  sky.     Their  reign  is  death's.     They 

smite 

Th'  unborn,  and  make  God's  earth  a  wolfy  cave, 
A  lair  where  dark  lusts  lurk,  and  maniac  passions  rave. 


30  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

X. 

Souls  faint  and  wither  'neath  an  idol's  shade ; 
Minds  perish  wrapp'd  in  Galileo's  chain ; 
Freedom  bows  not  to  man,  nor  gods  man-made, 
But,  dying,  spurns  them  with  a  stern  disdain, 
And  joins  the  hosts  by  monkish  mercy  slain. 
Falls  Freedom  thus?    By  Heaven's  high  promise, — 

No! 

God  liveth;  man  was  not  redeem'd  in  vain  : 
His  Truth,  His  Eight  shall  reign  o'er  all  below ; 
Each  fetter  rent,  all  knees  to  Him  alone  shall  bow ! 


Ejjou  sfjalt  not  tafo  flj*  nanu  of  tfj*  5Lortr  fljs  (Soft  tit  fcafn :  for 
HLorfc  to  til  not  fcoHr  Jjtm  ajui'ltlts<y  tfjat  ta^t|  ^ts  name  in  fiatn. 


I. 

THAT  awful  name !     Earth,  from  her  inmost  heart, 
Through  every  fibre,  quivers  at  the  word ; 
Stars  hear  it,  in  their  tranquil  spheres,  and  start ; 
And  the  far  waves  of  slumbering  Space  are  stirr'd  : 
'Tis  breathed  in  heaven  with  awe ;   in  hell  'tis  heard 
With  shrieking  horror.     Keckless  man  alone, 
By  love  unmoved,  by  terror  undeterr'd, 
Blasphemes :  nor  with  the  echo  dies  the  tone ; 
'Tis  borne,  from  orb  to  orb,  to  God's  insulted  throne ! 

31 


32  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

II. 

They  who  the  witness  God  invoke  in  vain, 
Invoke  the  avenging  God ;  for  He  hath  sworn, 
Ev'n  by  Himself :  dares  mocking  man  profane 
That  oath  with  idle  utterance  and  with  scorn  ? 
Oh,  better  had  the  ribald  ne'er  been  born ! 
To  bind  the  lawless ;  rule  from  wrong  to  wrest ; 
To  seal  the  pact  of  peace,  by  tempests  torn ; 
To  guard  the  right,  the  sacred  truth  attest; — 
For  these  the  good  man's  vow, — for  these  that  vow  is 
blest ! 


in. 

But  when  men  lift  their  impious  hands  on  high 
To  serve  the  idle  purpose  of  an  hour; 
In  Traffic's  trifles  mouth  the  accustom'd  lie; 
Or  buy,  with  perjuries,  wealth,  or  place,  or  power, — 
Toying  with  death  as  children  with  a  flower ; — 
"Pis  fearful  thus  the  living  God  to  brave ! 
And  evil  vows  have  ever  evil  dower : 
Such  Saul's  to  Endor,  over  Samuel's  grave;1 
And  Jephthah's.     Was  there  none, — no  power,  the 
maid  to  save? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  33 

IV. 

When,  with,  no  victor's  pride,  the  victor  trode,2 
Faltering  and  fearful,  on  to  Mizpah's  gate, 
To  meet  the  offering  he  had  vow'd  to  God, 
Whisper'd  no  bodement, — now,  alas,  too  late  !— 
The  doom  so  soon  to  make  him  desolate? 
Glad  music  wakes;  he  lifts  his  livid  brow; 
Horror!  his  child,  rejoicing,  woos  her  fate: 
"Alas,  my  daughter,  thou  hast  brought  me  low; 
For  I  have  vow'd  to  God,  nor  can  revoke  my  vow!" 


V. 


She  said  unto  him:  "If,  my  father,  thou 
Hast  vow'd  unto  the  Lord,  be  it  to  me, 
For  Israel's  sake,  according  to  thy  vow : 
But  let  me  once  again  my  mountains  see : 
There  let  me  wander  with  my  virgins,  free, 
And  bend  my  young  heart  to  its  lot  of  woe, 
And  learn  to  leave  this  lovely  earth  and  thee!" 
The  stricken  father,  sobbing,  murmur'd,  "Go!" 
She  went, — return'd, — and  bow'd  her  meekly  to  the 
blow. 

5 


34  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VI. 

Swear  not  at  all :  by  Heaven,  for  'tis  God's  throne, 
Nor  earth,  for  'tis  Sis  footstool :  Is  it  well 
To  mock  the  bidding  of  the  Holy  One? 
Yet  lips  there  are  that,  like  mere  craters,  swell 
With  dull  upheavings  of  the  nether  hell, 
Bubbling  and  noisome  ever.     'Tis  their  pride 
To  link  God's  name  with  language  foul  and  fell, 
His  spirit  spurn,  His  reign  and  wrath  deride, 
And  pour,  with  black'ning  lips,  the  dread,  blaspheming 
tide. 


VII. 

What  horrid  madness,  what  star-conjured  spell, 
Hangs  this  strange  poison  on  the  babbling  tongue  ? 
Th'  insensate  sin  from  Nature  never  fell; 
Ne'er  from   the   heart's   o'ershadow'd    promptings 

sprung. 

Its  opes  no  Ophir;  on  no  brow  has  hung 
Fame's  laurel  crown,  or  pleasure's  myrtle  wreath; 
Its  charms  no  sage  has  praised,  no  bard  has  sung : 
What,  then,  wins  man  by  this  curse-cumber'd  breath? 
He   mocks   a   Deity,    and   wins — 'tis    all — a   death. 


3&nnfmf).cr  tfje  jsaifcatf)  fra|>  to  fotp  it  fools  .  J5fi  fraiis  sfoalt  tfjou 
lafiour,  an&  fto  all  if)j>  foork  :  hut  tfot  j&tfantfo  J&aj  is  tfo*  saiiai^  of  t%« 
3lor&  t^2  ^5°^  '  in  tt  t^ou  sfoli  not  J&o  an^  boork,  tfjou,  nor  1^2  son, 
nor  tfjj  baujg^itr,  t^D  manstrfcant,  nor  lt)2  matbstrbani,  nor  tfjg  rattle, 
nor  tf)S  stran^tr  t^at  15  init^tn  t^2  salts:  for  tn  six  ira^s  t^£  5,ori) 
^tabtn  anil  £art^,  t$t  sta,  an&  all  tfjat  tn  tttm  ts,  anltr  rcstcb 


it. 


BLESSED  the  Law  which,  from  its  restless  self, 
Px-escues  the  toil-worn  world,  that  else  would  know, 
In  this  wild  race  for  fame,  or  power,  or  pelf, 
No  time  for  joy  or  duty  here  below; 
No  time  the  big  drops  from  its  wrinkled  brow 
To  wipe,  and  look  up  to  the  pitying  sky. 
Bondmen  of  life,  whose  king  is  Care,  men  bow 
Their  burthen'd  backs,  nor  pause  a  prayer  to  sigh; 
But,  tottering  onward,  toil, — and,  ever   toiling,  die! 

35 


36  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


II. 


The  stars  out-watching,  o'er  their  vigils  bend 
The  statesman  painful  and  the  student  pale ; 
And  gainful  hours  to  Traffic's  toils  man  lend 
The  sallow  colours  of  his  golden  Baal; 
And  Labour  sways  the  sledge  and  swings  the  flail : 
Toil  and  still  toil ;  health,  sport,  and  love  forgot ! 
Till  brain  and  brawn,  till  soul  and  sinew  fail. 
Of  all  life's  waste,  its  God  would  own  no  spot, 
But   that   His    Sabbath    saith,    "  Ye    weary,    labour 

not  r 


in. 

Smiled  not  God's  Sabbath  on  Life's  endless  storm, 
Our  race  would  roughen,  under  sordid  Care, 
Till  Youth  forgot  its  cheer,  and  Love  its  charm ; 
And  man  lost  all  of  gentle  and  of  fair, — 
Left,  by  neglected  Heaven,  to  dark  despair. 
But  beams  the  holy  day  !     Not  loosely  spent, 
Not  lost  in  idless ;  but  devote  to  prayer, 
To  lofty  lore,  to  love  and  sweet  content; 
The   peace  and  joy  of  Heaven  awhile    to  Earth  are 
lent. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  37 

IV. 

Freedom,  the  boast  of  many  a  sordid  slave, 
Whose  heavy  fetters  clank  around  his  soul ; 
Freedom,  that  dwells  but  with  the  pure  and  brave, 
And  spurns  the  bondman  who  brooks  Sin's  control;— 
Nor  ever  did,  nor  will,  her  flag  unroll 
Above  the  land  whose  Sabbaths  are  denied ; 
Where  Sunday  jugglers  trick  and  minstrels  troll, 
And  idle  fools  are  by  worse  fools  beguiled : 
Not  there  she  bides ;  but  seeks  her  Sabbath  in  the 
wild. 


v. 

Lo  !  now  the  happy  Sabbath  sun  shines  forth, 

And  the  worn  world  shakes  off  its  lumbering  care ; 

Gentle  and  joyous  spirits  walk  the  earth, 

And  all  is  calm  and  soft,  and  bright  and  fair. 

The  village  is  astir ;  the  voice  of  prayer 

Floats,  with  the  streamlet's   hymn   that  murmurs 

near, 

In  solemn  cadence,  on  the  morning  air, 
And  tells,  the  day  to  lowly  labour  dear, 
The  blessed  Sabbath,  praise  be  unto  God;  is  here  ! 


38  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VI. 

Afar,  o'er  hill  and  valley,  stream  and  glen, 
The  ancient  church-bell's  peal  is  blithely  tost : 
Now,  on  the  fresh  breeze,  cheerly  heard,  and  then, 
In  the  quick  quivering  of  the  green  leaves,  lost. 
Prompt  at  the  summons,  moves  the  straggling  host : 
The  youths  clear  fence  and  field  with  frolic  bound  ; 
The  ruddy  maids,  their  prudent  mothers'  boast, 
Demurely  step,  sly  stealing  glances  round, 
Xor   leave  the  branchy  path  that  thrids  the  burial- 
ground. 


VII. 

Around  the  low-brow'd  porch  they  pause  awhile, 
Beneath  the  elm  that  towers  above  the  dome  ; 
Exchanging,  gravely,  greetings  without  guile, 
They  learn  the  welfare  of  each  honest  home. 
But  soon  the  hum  is  hush'd ;  the  Pastor  come, 
Advancing  slow,  their  toil-bronzed  brows  they  bend  ; 
And  kneeling  as  he  opes  the  sacred  tome, 
Their  gushing  hearts  and  blended  tones  ascend, 
In  prayer  and  praise,  to  God,  their  Father  and  their 
Friend. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  39 

VIII. 

Happy  that  band,  reliant  and  devout ! 
The  dusky  artisan  whose  brow,  now  bright, 
Expands  with  love  and  joy;  the  yeoman  stout, 
Whose  harvests  are  the  bounty  of  God's  might : 
Matron  and  maiden,  old  and  young,  unite 
Heart-offerings  to  God's  low-roof 'd  house  to  bring, 
From  which  th'  intruding  oaks  exclude  the  light, 
While  to  the  organ-notes  the  glad  birds  sing; 
Yet  God   is  there;    and  'tis  the  palace  of   Heaven's 
King ! 


IX. 

What,  without  that  which  sanctifies  the  lowly, 
The  temple's  glory  or  cathedral's  pride? 
Than  conqueror's  triumphs  higher  and  more  holy 
The  joys  that  with  the  cotter's  Sabbath  bide. 
The  Lord's  day  past,  how  sweet,  at  eventide, 
His  blessed  sleep  whose  service  has  been  blest ! 
So  may  we  live  in  Him  who  for  us  died, 
That  life  may  like  a  Sabbath  be  possest, 
And  death  heaven's  Sabbath  give  of  rapture  and  of 
rest ! 


\\. 


Concur  tf)B  fatfcr  an*  tfjj  motfcr :  ifcat  tf)2  fa$&  mas  it  long  upon 
tfc  Ianfc  Wet)  tfjt  fcor*  tfcs  (Soil  fltbttfi  tfjtt. 


I. 


WHAT  law  is  sacred  to  the  wretch  who  breaks 
The  First?  the  cradle's  code,  by  Nature  given? 
God's,  in  the  sire's,  authority  awakes : 
His  sire  who  mocks,  mocks  too  the  Sire  of  Heaven ! 
Our  guard  when  weak,  our  guide  when  error-driven, 
The  father  reigns ;  revere  his  hoary  age,— 
All  sacred  things  are  old,— and  God's  quick  levin 
The  scorner  of  white  hairs  will  blast  in  rage ; 
So  perish'd  they  who  mock'd,  of  old,  His   Seer  and 
Sage.1 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  41 

II. 

Warm  as  volcanic  springs  and  strong,  should  start 
Of  Filial  Love  the  full  and  flowing  tide. 
We  of  our  parents  are  a  sever'd  part : 
Fragments  of  worlds,  struck  off  when  orbs  collide, 
Tis  said,  still  near  the  parent  orb  abide, 
Eevolving,  in  love's  orbit,  round  it  ever : 
Thus  should  the  heart  revolve,  in  love  and  pride, 
Around  its  parent  heart,  with  fond  endeavour 
To  light  its  darken'd  hours,   and  watch  it,  wearied 
never. 


in. 

And  what  so  worthy  of  our  love  ?     A  glory 
To  filial  eyes  shines  forth  a  parent's  light ; 
His  ill, — not  theirs  the  study  nor  the  story; 
For  Canaan's  curse  can  still  the  irreverent  smite.2 
The  pleasant  play  of  hearts,  when  life  is  bright, 
How  can  it  be  forgot?     When  parents  move, 
Our  angels,  through  home's  Eden  of  delight  ,— 
Our  early  home,  that  after  dream  of  love, 
Kosy  with   earthly  bloom,  but   radiant   from  above ! 


42  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


Oh,  out  of  heaven,  there  is  no  love  like  theirs ! 
And  for  such  love,  shall  we  not  yield  our  own  ? 
Self  other  hearts  with  sympathy  still  shares ; 
But  selfish  thought  nor  throb  in  theirs  is  known. 
That  we  may  minister  to  them,  alone, 
Do  others  love  :  all  gifts  of  heart  and  mind, 
Power,  beauty,  fame — stays  love  when  these  are  gone  ? 
Lost  what  we  are  and  have — waits  love  behind? 
With  the  first  frost  it  shrinks,  and  scatters  with  the 
wind ! 


v. 

A  parent's  love  !    What  doth  it  know  of  change? 
It  broods,  with  seraphs,  o'er  our  cradled  sleep ; 
Follows,  with  fearless  faith,  o'er  life's  rough  range, 
Nor  spares  a  pause  to  shudder  and  to  weep. 
The  mindless,  formless,  loveless,  it  doth  keep 
Clasp'd  to  its  holy  heart;  its  living  ray 
Lights  the  loathed  lazar  couch  and  dungeon  deep ; 
Guilt  from  the  Death-tree  frights  it  not  away; 
It   clings   till  all   is  o'er, — and  lingers  still  to  pray, 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  43 

VI. 

For  time,  nor  tears,  nor  even  crime  and  shame, 
Can  quench  that  spark  of  heaven's  paternal  glow ; 
ISTo  touch  nor  taint  of  earth  obscures  that  flame, 
Tender  and  truthful  o'er  all  else  below. 
And  what  is  he,  whose  heart-streams  do  not  flow 
Back  to  their  fount  ?     Trust  not  the  churl :  for  he 
ISTo  friend  can  cherish,  softer  flame  can  know, 
Nor  love  his  God.     Dark  mockery  must  it  be, 
A   father   scorn'd, — to  bend,  to  Him  in  heaven,  the 
knee. 


VII. 

But  love  from  love  withheld,  still  lives  a  debt 
That  claims  the  holiest,  heart-heap'd  gratitude  : 
Ev'n  from  the  hour  the  parents'  tear-drops  wet 
The  infant  forehead,  has  that  debt  accrued  : 
Still  heaping  gift  on  gift,  and  good  on  good ; 
Days,  nights,  and  years  of  suffering  met,  not  moan'd ; 
And,  for  their  child,  all  toil  and  torture  woo'd ; 
Earth  ne'er  beneath  a  loathlier  ingrate  groan'd, 
Than    he    who    leaves    that     debt    unanswer'd    and 
unown'd. 


44  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VIII. 

How  pure  is  heaven,  that  aught  more  pure  can  know 
Than  is  a  mother's  love! — Draw  gently  near; 
The  place  is  hallow'd  with  a  mother's  woe ! 
The  taper  hardly  lights  her  trembling  tear; 
And  on  her  brow  sit  Agony  and  Fear. 
Clasping  her  child,  and  still  and  pale  as  stone, 
She  bends,  his  breathing  quick  and  low  to  hear; 
Explores  his  faint  pulse,  while  she  stays  her  own ; 
And,  on  her  pallid  lip,  crushes  the  struggling  groan. 


IX. 

Thus  hour  by  hour,  till  wears  the  night  away; 
Thus  day  by  day,  till  Life  is  shadow'd  o'er; 
And  beauty's  spectral  gleam  illumes  decay : 
And  is  this  naught?     Let  pensive  Memory  pore 
O'er  each  sweet  debt,  the  leal  heart's  loving  lore, 
Till  fades  the  page !     And,  at  the  summons,  lo ! 
A  father's  proud  smile  warms  our  hearts  once  more; 
Eelumed  the  eye  that  wont  with  love  to  glow; 
And   all   forgot,    awhile,    our   loneliness   and   woe ! 


DEVOTIONAL   POEMS.  45 

X. 

That  dark  eye  flashes  as  it  flash'd  of  yore, 
When,  breathing  lessons  of  immortal  truth, 
He  taught  our  spirits  with  his  own  to  soar, 
And  gave  to  Virtue  and  to  God  our  youth : 
Truth's  courage,  duty's  rigor,  mercy's  ruth  ; 
The  aims  that  make  life  lovely  in  defeat ; 
The  spirit-wealth  that  mocks  at  Time's  keen  tooth ; 
Again  the  voices  of  our  hearts  repeat : 
For   Love   the   lesson   taught, — and   every   tone  was 
sweet ! 


XI. 

Ah,  who  can  speak  the  love  that  lit  our  path  ; 
That  prized  our  weal  beyond  the  world  beside ; 
That  wept  our  wanderings, — ne'er  rebuked  in  wrath ; 
And  watch'd  our  triumphs,  with  o'ergushing  pride : 
The  age,  whose  joys  and  griefs  were  still  supplied 
By  love  for  those  whose  life  became  his  own ; 
Whose  slowly-lapsing,  oft-returning,  tide 
Still  pour'd  its  riches  where  its  love  was  sown, 
Till   in   the   ocean  lost; — and   we   were   left   alone! 


46  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

XII. 

Oil,  happy  then  is  he  whose  memories  raise 
No  record  claiming  a  repentant  tear ! 
Richer  than  India's  mines  a  parent's  praise 
To  him  who  ne'er  that  parent's  voice  may  hear. 
Our  love  his  life-charm, — memory  passing  dear  ! 
On  filial  lives  heaven's  signet  is  imprest : 
A  sire's  bright  evening  speaks  a  son's  day  clear ; 
And  length  of  days,  tranquillity  of  breast, 
And  blessed  offspring,  crown  the  child  whom  parents 
bless'd. 


XIII. 

Woe  to  the  ingrate  child !     Within  the  heart 
That  opens  to  that  ugliest  fiend  below, 
A  thousand  kindred  demons  dark  upstart, 
Goading  it  on  to  guiltiness  and  woe. 
The  rebel's  ruffian  hands  shall  overthrow 
The  loves  that  shelter  him ;  his  friends  shall  fly  ; 
His  child,  distrusted,  shall  become  his  foe ; 
The  ravens  shall  pluck  out  his  mocking  eye ; 
Unloved,  the  wretch  shall  live, — unbless'd,  unpitied, 
die! 


mtfcifo 


sfcalt  not  feill. 


I, 


HOLY  is  human  life ;  a  mystery 

Beyond  the  surgeon's  ken,  the  sage's  thought : 

Whence  comes  it  ?    Why,  and  whither,  doth  it  flee  ? 

Science  in  vain  its  secret  haunt  hath  sought  : 

Its  mystic  errand  Nature  never  taught ; 

Man  knows  not  ev'n  what  bids  those  heart-springs 

move 
By    which    Life's    current    through    his   frame    is 

wrought : 

Yet,  guiltily,  presumptuous,  looks  above, 
And  dares  God's  heart  to  search,  God's  attributes  to 

prove  ! 


47 


48  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


II. 


A  spark  of  Deity,  the  vital  ray 
No  time  can  darken,  and  no  death  destroy : 
Man's  true  life  is  the  soul's ;  and  that  the  day 
Of  earth  can  ne'er,  with  needs  nor  hopes,  employ. 
God  gave  it— (it  is  His)— not  as  a  toy, 
Nor  castaway,  but  in  eternal  trust : 
This  frame,  His  temple — till  we  can  enjoy 
The  heavenly  temple  of  the  perfect  just : 
Woe  to  the  bloody  hand  that  bows  it  to  the  dust ! 


in. 

Thunder  alone  should  speak  that  sacrilege ! 
God's  image  crush'd— His  living  fane  o'erthrown  ! 
The  brute  insensate,  ev'n  in  famine's  rage, 
Slays  not  his  kind.  The  First-born's  crime  is  known 
To  Eden's  outcasts  only  :  that  alone 
Combines  all  wrongs  that  evil  ever  knew. 
Life  ta'en,— all's  ta'en ;— what  can  for  all  atone  ? 
The  quickening  sun ;  the  heaven's  irradiate  blue ; 
Earth's  joy-enkindling   thrill— what   may  that  thrill 
renew  ? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  49 

IV. 

The  wistful  warmth,  the  melody  and  bliss ; 
Glad  health,  high  hope,  boon  life  around,  above ; 
The  soft  eye  melting,  and  the  murmuring  kiss ; 
The  quivering  rapture  of  electric  love  ;— 
Changed  !  and  for  what  ?    Ah,  nevermore  may  move 
Those  eyes  full-staring!     Stirless,  stony,  cold, 
But  gash'd  and  red,  the  frame  that  vainly  strove ; 
The  close-clutch'd  hands  still  grasp  the  crimson 'd 

mould, 
And  lip  and  blacken'd  brow  their  dying  horrors  hold. 


v. 

Dark  triumph  !  but  it  is  not  Murder's  all : 
The  blow  awakes  a  sinful  soul  from  sleep  ;— 
Awakes  to  what  ?     More  dread  than  knife  and  pall, 
That  sacrifice,  o'er  which  the  angels  weep ; 
And  wild  the  shriek,  which,  rising  from  the  deep, 
"Will  meet  the  murderer,  should  he  dare  to  pray. 
Others,  wife,  offspring,  the  red  quarry  heap  : 
They  kill  the  brood  the  parent-bird  who  slay ; 
The  life's  life  of  near  hearts  with  his  is  swept  away. 


50  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VI. 

Doth  not  the  murderer  to  himself  a  wrong 
Fell  as  his  victim's  ?     When  the  deathly  gloom 
Of  his  grim  purpose  shrouds  him,  and  the  throng 
Of  fiends  surround  him,  reeking  from  the  tomb,— 
What  death-sweats  chill !     What  fires  of  hell  con 
sume  ! — 
The    hour    hath    come !     Wild    horrors    ride    his 

brain, — 

That  hour,  the  murderer's  and  his  victim's  doom  : 
'Tis   blood, — all   blood!     Blood   falls   like   summer 

rain  : 

One  sleeps  who  ne'er  will  wake, — one  ne'er  will  sleep 
again ! 


VII. 

As  in  a  burial-vault,  they  grope  the  earth, 

United  now,  the  murderer  and  his  slain ; 

The   spectre's   chapless   cheeks   are   wreathed  with 

mirth, 
The  while  they  join  the  blood-red  bowl  to  drain  : 


DEVOTIONAL    POEM  3.  51 

Pillow'd  cheek  touching  cheek,  its  bones  are  lain 
Beside  him ;  night  nor  day  are  they  apart  ; 
And  sights  and  sounds,  a  thousand,  rack  his  brain ; 
A  passing  cloud  will  chill,  a  leaflet  start ; 
And   he  would  die,  but,  'neath  its  eye,   he  hath  no 
heart ! 

VIII. 

Avenged  so  surely, — for  earth  will  not  hide 
The  deed  of  blood,  nor  fire,  nor  wind,  nor  wave, 
jSTor  ev'n  the  torn  heart  of  the  homicide  : — 
Avenged  so  fearfully, — for  o'er  the  grave 
Eise  Furies  from  whose  wrath  no  rede  can  save  : — 
Sure  maniacs  only,  in  their  darkest  mood, 
Such  deed  can  purpose,  or  such  doom  can  brave  ! 
No;  gather 'd  were  all  Time's  crime-lavish 'd  blood, 
'Twould   sweep  around  the  earth,  a  red  and  rolling 
flood! 

IX. 

Each  vale  has  fatten'd,  by  the  battle  fed : 
Each  stream  run  crimson'd  through  a  warring  land ; 
Each  sea  has  fondled  with  its  sweltering  dead, 
And  cast  wrecks  not  her  own  upon  the  strand ; 


52  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

The  rock  has  redden'd,  and  the  desert  sand. 
Earth  owns  no  spot  uncursed  by  Murder's  reign : 
Senates  it  nurse ;  schools  guide  its  crimson'd  hand ; 
While  madden'd  millions  shout  o'er  millions  slain, 
And  Glory's  chant  rings  o'er  charr'd  town  and  shriek 
ing  plain. 


x. 

Can  the  white  hand  of  pure  and  holy  Eight 
Be  in  the  hue  of  human  slaughter  dyed  ? 
Can  Piety  a  pretext  find  to  smite, 
Making  libation  of  the  gash'd  heart's  tide  ? 
What  right  to  quench  that  flame — to  heaven  allied— 
Which  earth  can  ne'er  relume  ?     Could  human  deed 
Have  drawn  our  Saviour  to  a  homicide  ? 
Dread  should  the  danger  be,  and  dire  the  need, 
That   asks   one   sacred   life, — or  bids  a  nation  bleed. 


XI. 

Seldom  such  need  excuseth  either  foe ; 
And  never  both.     Of  all  earth's  wars,  how  few 
Have  for  man's  right  or  welfare  struck  a  blow, 
Or  gain'd  a  point !     What  man  has  won  is  due 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  53 

To  peaceful  virtues  :  War  and  its  vile  crew 
Establish  only  wrong.     Force  knows  but  Will, 
(Conscience,  or  code,  or  creed,  it  never  knew ;) 
Its  aim  to  glut  dark  passions, — crush  and  kill : 
What  pleaseth  it,  it  doth ;  and  still  is  pleased  with  ill. 


XII. 

Peace  is  the  chorded  music  of  the  sky, 
And  godlike  spirits'  love;  strife,  the  jar 
Of  Nature  chaos-smit, — th'  ignoble  joy 
Of  brute  and  brutish  men.     The  feast  of  war 
They  seek — with  vulture  swoop  and  greed — afar, 
And  gorge  insatiate.     Heroes  !  what  reck  they 
Of  crimson'd  hearthstone  and  of  outraged  lar  ? 
The  weak,  unweapon'd,  (not  the  field  and  fray,) 
The  cot,  the  cradle,  couch,  War's  direst  spoil  purvey. 


XIII. 

And  not  alone  by  Murder's  red  right  hand 

The  task  of  War  is  wrought ;  for,  on  its  path, — 

Staunch   hounds,  but    silent, — Famine   sweeps  the 

land, 
With  Plague,  to  snatch  the  offal  left  by  Wrath. 


5-i  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

'Neath  walls  still  tottering  with  the  battle's  scath, 
By  the  strown  roadside,  in  cave,  fen,  or  wold, 
(Where,  clinging  to  the  grim  hope  Misery  hath, 
The  helpless  herd,)  their  carnival  they  hold : 
Death  snuffs  the  air,  and  laughs  o'er  the  corse-cover 'd 
mould ! 


XIV. 

Can  Virtue  here  her  holy  altar  keep, 
Where  Hate  and  Terror  rule,  by  turn,  the  soul  ? 
Where  the  dark  passions  of  the  heart's  great  deep 
Are  broken  up,  in  billowy  wrath  to  roll, 
O'erleaping  Reason's  check,  as  mocks  the  mole 
Ocean  upheaved  by  earthquake?     Every  ill, 
Rage,  rapine,  lust, — o'ertowering  control,— 
The  ruin'd  heart  with  demon  spirits  fill : 
Virtue  with  Murder  mate !   it  never   hath  nor  will ! 


xv. 

And  ev'n  Religion's  never-dying  day 
More  feebly  shines  beneath  War's  red  eclipse : 
How  dare  we  hope  that  she  on  earth  would  stay 
To  kiss  the  lava  from  his  crater-lips  ? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  55 

Yet  man  has  claim'd  that  'tis  for  God  he  dips 
His  sacrilegious  hand  in  brother's  blood ! 
His  corse-rear 'd  altar  with  th'  oblation  drips ; 
And  his  prayers  rise  while  falls  the  vital  flood : 
Deems  he  o'er  such  a  scene  THE  DOVE,  well  pleased, 
will  brood  ? 

XVI. 

Civilization  from  War's  reign  recedes, 
Leaving  lost  cities  the  hyena's  lair  : 
Celestial  Science,  with  her  votaries,  bleeds  ; 
And  Art  expires,  the  gentle  and  the  fair. 
And  Freedom  !     She  hath  dared,  and  yet  can  dare, 
To  strike, — for  God  strikes  with  her ;  and  to  die 
For  her  is  rapture  ; — for  her  life  doth  bear 
In  it  all  life,  all  virtue,  and  all  joy : 
'Tis  Truth,  'tis  Peace,  'tis  God,— on  earth  as  'tis  on 
high  I1 

XVII. 

A  land  whose  vales  War  dares  not  breathe  upon  ; 
Where  Hope  and  Joy  toil  cheerly,  and  Repose 
Dreads  no  awakener  ruder  than  the  sun ; 
Where  Truth's  life-fountain  by  each  cottage  flows 


56  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Free  as  the  hill-side  spring;  where  Weakness  knows 
No  fear ;  and  Freedom  and  Religion  rest 
Upon  the  arm  of  Peace  !     What  fiend  the  throes 
Of  war  would  bring  unto  that  tranquil  breast  ? 
For  Gain  or  Glory  curse  a  land  so  richly  blest  ? 


XVIII. 

Accurst  the  miscreant  whose  spider- care 
Weaves  o'er  a  people's  fate  the  web  of  war ! 
Too  cold  to  pity,  and  too  base  to  dare, 
He  gloats  o'er  Murder's  revel  from  afar : 
Selfish,  impassive,  'tis  his  part  to  tar 
Men's  passions  on  to  crime ;  till,  axle-deep 
In  human  gore,  they  drive  the  conqueror's  car, 
And  call  it  Glory !     Can  the  monster  sleep  ? 
Mads    he    not,    as    hot    waves   of   blood    his   couch 
o'erleap  ? 


XIX. 

Still  guiltier,  baser, — see  the  Duel  ape 
The  strife  of  realms  !     With  ceremony  due, 
His  friends — his  friends  ! — the  formal  folly  shape, 
And  give  it  murder's  form  and  murder's  hue : 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  57 

They  phrase  it  honour  !     Honour  never  knew 
The  idiot  crime,  but,  wise  and  pure  and  brave, 
Is  ever  unto  God  and  Duty  true  : 
'Tis  Fashion's  law, — the  breath  of  sot  and  knave  :2 
Fashion,  the  fool's  God,  frowns ;    he  dies  its  coward 
slave ! 


xx. 

'Tis  guiltiest, — for  Self-murder  adds  its  guilt ; 
And  Time  and  Thought  and  Sleep  against  it  plead,- 
The  gentle  Sleep  whose  dreams,  ere  blood  is  spilt, 
Hear  angels  whisper,  Dare  not  do  this  deed ! 
For  'tis  not  Passion  bids  the  victim  bleed  ; 
And  oft  the  murderer  slays  when  loth  to  kill : 
Not  erring  Nature,  Hate,  nor  Eage,  nor  Need, 
His  wretched  plea :  he  goes,  in  conscious  ill, 
Defying  God   and   man,  a   felon's   grave   to   fill. 


XXI. 

'Tis  basest, — for  not  willingly  he  goes, 
That  whipp'd  and  trembling  thrall  of  sordid  fear : 
(Save  when  the  dark  life-gamester  deftly  throws 
The  loaded  dice  of  death ; — whose  life's  a  sneer, 


58  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Whose   wine   is   blood,   whose   banquet-board,    the 

bier ; — 

The  licensed  bravo,  with  his  heart  of  hate 
And  eye  of  snake,  who  kills  with  jocund  jeer, 
And  lives  to  kill :  Fiends  on  his  triumphs  wait, 
And  own,  abash'd,  their  lord  and  master,  not   their 
mate !) 


XXII. 

'Tis  basest, — for  not  willingly  he  goes, 
But  lash'd  by  fears  that  wisdom  would  deride  ; 
Not  fears  of  life  nor  law,  of  friends  nor  foes, 
Of  conscience  outraged,  nor  of  virtuous  pride : 
What  then  ?     What   can    the   driveller   dread  be 
side? 
A  sneer !     From  whom  ?     Fools,  with  nor  heart  nor 

brain, 

Whose  praise,  as  unto  infamy  allied, 
Ev'n    he    would    shrink    from    with    a    just   dis 
dain; 

And   yet   the    craven   bows,  and   basely  wears  their 
chain ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  59 


XXIII. 


The  voluntary  madman  dares  not  think  :— 
From  that  dread  gulf  he  turns,  appall'd,  away ; 
He  dares  not,  standing  on  the  dark  grave's  brink, 
And  self-divorced  from  Heaven,  he  dares  not  pray 
He  asks  no  good  man's  blessing  on  that  day ; 
But  to  the  field,  with  guilty  stealth,  he  hies  ; 
Brute  nerves  suffice  his  brutal  part  to  play  ; 
As  the  fool  clieth— should  he  fall— he  dies ; 
Or,   victor,    (human   all!)   he,    like   a   felon,    flies! 


XXIV. 

How  hath  the  mighty  fall'n  !3     His  country's  love, 
A  blissful  home,  ev'n  Virtue's  honest  scorn, 
All  could  not  lift  the  hero's  soul  above 
A  false  and  fatal  shame.     Well  might  he  mourn 
His  bride  and  babes,  left  stricken  and  forlorn, 
His  cause  deserted,  and  his  country ;  still 
He  left  the  fame  so  nobly  won  and  worn, 
Conscious  and  sad,  the  duellist's  grave  to  fill : 
False   honour's   loud  call  drown'd   the  voice, —  Thou 
shalt  not  kill ! 


60  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

XXV. 

Thus  sank  the  star  that  from  our  country's  brow 
Beam'd  with  immortal  radiance  !     And  the  gain, 
What  was  it,  of  his  cold,  man-hating  foe  ? 
He  fled  from  infamy, — a  wandering  Cain  ; 
His  life  a  torture,  and  his  name  a  stain  ! 
When  will  true  Honour's  sons  to  teach  unite 
That  coward  Wrong  alone  incurs  disdain ; 
That  only  deeds  which  Heaven  approves  are  bright; 
That  Courage  bides  with  Truth,  and  Honour  lives  in 
Eight ! 


sfjalt  not  .commit 


I. 

YOUNG,  holy  Love  !     It  riseth  o'er  the  heart, 
Like  morn's  flush'd  glory  o'er  a  vernal  sky ; 
And  from  its  light  all  things  profane  depart, 
Leaving  thoughts  pure  and  aspirations  high ; 
The  hallowing  influence  of  Divinity  ! 
Its  heart-founts,  clear  as  rills  in  Eden  bowers, 
Euffled  alone  by  Joy's  low  quivering  sigh, 
Wake,  as  they  lave  their  Paradise  of  flowers, 
Weird   melodies,   else   mute,   in   this   wild   world    of 
ours. 

61 


62  DEVOTIONAL     POEMS. 

II. 

Each  other's,  and  all  God's  !     The  sacred  vow 
Blends  souls,  like  meeting  streams  or  mingling  rays ; 
And  lapsing  life  glides  by  with  music's  flow, 
Till  age,  like  moonlight,  silvers  o'er  their  days. 
God  on  their  holy  home  His  blessing  lays : 
And  when  the  bow  that  o'er  their  youth  was  bent — 
The  mingled  glory  of  their  souls — decays, 
Its  hues  are  with  immortal  radiance  blent ; 
They  melt, — but  'tis  in  light :  Heaven  claims  the  love 
it  lent ! 


in. 

The  unholiest  spirit  from  the  pit  of  night 
Is  that,  with  loathly  leer  and  loosen'd  zone, 
Whose  shameless  wiles  the  wanton  will  invite ; 
The  reek  of  rotten  hearts  and  passion  prone, 
Whose  carrion  breath  blasts  wheresoe'er  'tis  blown. 
Tortured  with  flames  that  sear,  but  cannot  sate  ; 
True  love  unknowing,  by  true  love  unknown : 
Loathing  its  ulcer 'd  self  and  monster  mate  ; 
It  rots  in  charnel  heats,  or  withers  in  horrid  hate. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  63 

IV. 

That  satyr-sin  casts,  on  the  wretch  undone, 
The  muck  of  each  imbruting  vice  of  clay  ; 
Till  he  is  buried  from  the  blessed  sun, 
And,  worm-like,  works  in  earth  his  blinded  way. 
It  knows  no  joy,  no  truth,  no  trust,  no  stay ; 
Its  smiles  are  horror,  and  its  pleasures  weep  : 
From  sin  to  sin  it  changes  with  the  day ; 
From  woe  to  woe  it  stumbles  down  the  steep ; 
From  hell  to  hell  it  sinks,  and  finds  the  lowest  deep  ! 


sJjalt  not  steal. 


THE  Law  which  walls  man's  labour  and  its  fruit 
Is  from  on  High ;  and  holy  its  design  : — 
To  guard  the  means  of  life,  and  the  pursuit 
Of  aims  that  lift  our  nature,  and  refine. 
Without  the  Right  that  shelters  Mine  and  Thine, 
Famine  would  reign,  earth's  lord :  for  who  would 

toil? 
ISTo   wheaten   sheafs   would    nod,    no   ploughshares 

shine ; 

And — for  men  murder  where  they  will  not  moil — 
Rapine   would    rage,    and   Want    the   weaker   Want 

despoil.1 

64 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  65 

II. 

Hence  o'er  man's  havings  stretches  God's  high  hand, 
Not  to  exalt  Wealth,  but  to  shield  alone  ; 
And  hence  was  utter'd  the  divine  command, 
Thou  shalt  not  steal!  in  Sinai's  thunder-tone  : 
All  human  codes  the  heavenly  statute  own, 
Branding  the  wrong,  in  every  state  and  clime, 
As  vilest  of  the  deeds  to  baseness  known, 
The  hate  of  Goodness,  and  the  scorn  of  Time ; 
And,   great  the    spoil   and   spoiler,   greater  still   the 


crime. 


III. 

Where  is  this  Sin  ?     Alas !  where  is  it  not  ? 
It  walks  the  earth  in  purple  and  in  gold : 
To  grace  the  palace,  oft  it  spurns  the  cot ; 
It  mates  the  mighty,  and  it  sways  the  bold. 
He, — let  the  rough  truth  be  as  roughly  told,- 
He  who,  by  force,  by  agency,  or  art, 
Or  dares  or  deigns  to  seize  or  win  and  hold 
What  is  another's,  plays  the  filcher's  part, 
And  is  a  thief !— howe'er  he  from  the  title  start. 


66  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


What  is  the  hero,— what  his  harpy  band,— 
Who  burst  into  a  sleeping  realm,  and  raise 
The  Conqueror's  robber-title  o'er  the  land  ? 
'Tis  Honour's  quarrel ! — No ;  for  he  who  slays 
His  foe  in  honour,  rifling  hand  ne'er  lays 
Upon  the  fall'n.     The  bandit  band  are  strong, 
And  make  the  Eight;  while  Battle's  lurid  blaze 
Sheds  a  false  glare  Crime's  sordid  path  along, 
The  small  thief,  'neath  the  lash,  shrieks  for  the  self 
same  wrong ! 


V. 

The  spoils  of  war,  of  desolated  plain, 
Of  plundered  city,  and  of  besom'd  sea, — 
Manlier  or  nobler  are  they,  from  the  stain 
Of  blood,  than  simple  Felony's  would  be  ? 
Is  the  crime  less,  that  pension'd  priests  agree 
To  chaunt  Te  Deums,  whose  loud  lauds  arise 
Ev'n  with  the  shrieks  of  rack'd  humanity, 
The  famish'd  mother's  prayers,  her  infant's  cries  ? 
Prelate   or   Victim,   which,    hath   audience   with    the 
skies  ? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  67 

VI. 

Such  is  earth's  glory  !     How  much  hath  its  spell, 
A  word  that  wilders,  cost  us !     On  the  pall 
Of  the  world's  Hope,  the  spangle  glitters  well. 
Guilt,  dwarf 'd,  men  spurn;  a  monster  grown,  they 

fall 

And  worship  it,  although  with  gore  and  gall 
It  drug  their  cup  :  Is't  not  the  allegiant  tie 
Binding  a  lost  world  in  its  dark  king's  thrall  ? 
From  their  pet  wolf  the  flock  one  moment  fly, 
Then  turn,  and  stand  to  gaze,  to  tremble,  and  to  die ! 


VII. 

But  Wrong  hath  subtler  arts, — arts  not  unknown 
To  the  false  warders  of  the  public  weal, 
Who  hold  their  law  an  engine  all  their  own, 
By  which  earth's  lords  dull  Labour's  birthright  steal ; 
Deftly  t'  extort,  so  that  the  subject  feel 
No  wound,  (as  vampire-bats  the  sleeper  fan, 
And  drain  his  life-blood,)  till  the  nation  reel, 
Sinking,  with  feeble  wail,  tax-crush'd  and  wan  : 
Such  the  dark  arts  by  which  man  makes  a  drudge  of 
man. 


68  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

VIII. 

By  many  a  deep  device  of  ancient  wrong, 
State  tyranny  exacts  its  steady  spoil ; 
And  thus  the  robber  few  enslave  the  throng, 
And  thus  Craft  triumphs  while  its  victims  toil. 
Slaves  of  the  mill  and  mine,  the  sea  and  soil, — 
Millions, — whose  dungeon'd  natures  see  no  light ; 
Their  souls,  forever  crush'd,  know  no  recoil ; 
Hope  looks  not  in  upon  their  lifelong  night : 
Alas   for   them, — and   those   who   rob  them  of  their 
Eight! 


IX. 

Thou  shalt  not  steal :  deem  they  this  law  unbroken, 
Who,  shrinking  from  the  malefactor's  fate, 
Are  fair  of  face  and  fame,  and  fairly  spoken, 
Yet  spare  no  subtle  craft,  no  vantage  bate, 
To  win,  by  thrift  unblest,  a  high  estate  ? 
Such  Traffic's  arts,  perverted,  pert,  and  sly ; 
Th'  o'erreaching  skill,  with  gainful  fraud  elate ; 
The  tricksy  token,  and  the  silent  lie ; 
The  low  lie  of  the  heart, — it  echoes  loud  on  high  ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  69 

X. 

Nor  less  condemn'd  the  Wrong  of  rasher  mood : 
The  slipshod  Probity,  whose  careless  hand 
Flings  earnings  not  its  own  upon  the  flood 
Of  reckless  risk;and  laughs  to  see  it  strand: 
The  fool  who  dreams  his  gold-compelling  wand 
Must  call  up  worlds ;  the  gamester  of  the  mart ; 
The  Trust-betrayer;  and  the  bold-brow 'd  band, 
Valiant  in  others'  losses  :  theirs  the  art 
Of  noble  theft : — they  spurn  the  paltry  pilferer's  part ! 


XI. 

Fraud  may  blind  Ignorance,  and  Success  may  praise ; 

Hypocrisy — the  shame  of  Satan's  train — 

May  charities  endow,  and  temples  raise : 

"  G-od  sees!"    the  Fraud  is  known,   the  Falsehood 

vain. 

But  Justice,  ev'n  on  earth,  asserts  her  reign : 
Guilt's  wealth  is  curst ;  its  triumph  is  a  doom ; 
A  conscience  scorpion-stung,  the  world's  disdain, 
A  life  of  torture,  and  a  death  of  gloom, 
But  antedate  the  fate  that  waits  beyond  the  tomb ! 2 


70  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

XII. 

The  Lord  upholds  the  righteous  and  the  just : 
The  Honest  Man — his  rule  eternal  Eight, 
His  truth  his  treasure,  and  his  God  his  trust — 
Treads  earth  with  dauntless  port  and  brow  of  light. 
No  ill  can  crush  his  soul,  no  peril  fright, 
Who  does  to  others  as  to  Self.     How  blest 
Each  tranquil  day  !  how  angel- watch'd  each  night ! 
Life  sunlike  passeth ;  death  is  Duty's  rest ; 
Loved,  honour'd,  wept,  he  sleeps  on  his    Redeemer's 
breast. 


sfjalt  not  foar  fals*  ivitntss  against  tf)2 


I. 

THE  blessed  Truth,  God-born  and  God-beloved ! 

That  ever  hath  lived,  lives  for  evermore ! 

High    as   the   heaven    where   loftiest   wings    have 

roved ; 

Pure  as  the  streams  of  Living  Love  that  pour 
Around  the  Throne  that  Seraphim  adore ; 
Lovely  beyond  angelic  Thought  to  trace; 
The  bride  whose  smile,  on  th'  empyrean  shore, 
Will  bless  the  blessed,  with  still  growing  grace ! 
The  atmosphere  of  Heaven  !    The  melody  of  Space ! 

71 


72  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

II. 

To  live  and  love  God's  truth ;  to  lift  the  soul 
High,  and  still  higher,  to  her  blest  abode ; 
To  feel  her  fires  along  the  spirit  roll, 
As  if  we  were  not  kindred  with  the  clod, 
But  lapp'd  in  light  anear  the  throne  of  God ; — 
Oh,  this  were  rapture,  this  were  life  indeed ! 
Come  earth's  worst  sorrows,  I  would  kiss  the  rod, 
And  smile,  if  Truth  were  with  me  in  my  need, — 
Ay,  smile,  though  bigot  wrong  should  bid  me  burn  or 
bleed 


III. 

Falsehood  !  the  shade  forever  execrated, 
That  lifts  its  scarr'd  front  'twixt  the  blessed  light 
And  the  lost  earth  !  the  hideous  and  the  hated  ! 
The  opposite  of  all  things  good  and  bright, 
Or  strong  and  lasting  !  shedding  bale  and  blight 
On  BEAUTY,  JOY,  and  HOPE  !     His  pestilent  breath 
Darken'd  earth's  primal  promise ;  day  made  night  ; 
Wither'd  on  her  young  brow  the  bridal  wreath ; 
Loaded  her  winds  with  groans,  and  heap'd  her  vales 
with  death ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  73 


IV. 


Its  vapour  struggleth  up  from  tortured  hell, 
As,  from  cleft  rocks,  in  the  oracles  of  old, 
Eose  fiery  fumes,  which  breathed,  the  priestess  fell 
Into  strange  madness-,  and  in  howlings  told 
Secrets  accurst,  fiends  only  could  unfold : 
To  madden  and  mislead,  thus,  from  the  deep 
The  fatal  cloud  o'er  earth  is  raised  and  roll'd,— 
Falsehood  and  Death— his  first-born— wildly  sweep 
The  world;   and,   side  by  side,  their  ripen'd  harvest 
reap. 


v. 


Falsehood  is  sin,  and  always  sin  ;  its  sire 
Sathan,  of  its  dark  home  and  birthplace  King : 
Ev'n  seeming  harmless,  it  still  hides  the  fire 
Of  that  dread  home.     The  adder  may  not  sting  ; 
But  who  will  fondle  with  the  fearful  thing? 
An  untruth  sinless  is  an  adder  fair. 
Angels  from  Falsehood  fly,  with  frighted  wing : 
The  liar's  bosom  is  Crime's  natural  lair  ; 
It   lurks,    perhaps,    unseen,— the   Judge   will   find   it 
there ! 


74  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


Esteem  not  words  as  breath, — to  be  contemn'd : 
For  you  shall  be — so  spake  th'  Almighty  Son— 
By  words  acquitted,  or  by  words  condemn'd : 
The  false  word  spoken  is  an  evil  done ; 
And,  'gainst  your  neighbour,  is  a  war  begun. 
Fair  Fame  is  Wealth,— is  Power,  to  aid  and  bless ; 
Tis  Happiness, — 'tis  Love  and  Friendship  won; 
A  robber  he  who  mars  or  makes  it  less, 
Life's  wine  pours  forth,  and  leaves  the  vase  an  empti 
ness  I 


VII. 

Good  name  to  man  is  odour  to  the  rose, 
Air  to  the  earth,  the  sun  unto  the  day : 
Without  it,  life  nor  hope,  nor  beauty,  knows, 
But  sinks  a  clod, — a  curse, — a  castaway. 
To  work  "that  woe,  who  dares,  and  dares  to  pray? 
To  poison  life's  pure  spring ;  from  a  fair  fame, 
By  patient  virtue  rear'd,  to  wrench  the  stay  ? 
And  leave  him,  'mid  the  ruins  of  a  name, 
In    icy   exile   lost,    the   solitude   of    shame? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  75 

VIII. 

How  may  that  gift  that  marks  man  from  the  brute, 
Perverted,  sink  him  ev'n  the  brute  below  ! 
'Twere  well  if  adder  hearts  were  deaf  and  mute 
As  adders,  for  their  venom  works  more  woe 
Than  serpent  fold  or  fang.     Like  winds  that  blow, 
Death-freighted,  o'er  the  desert,  is  the  breath 
Of  Calumny ;  its  baleful  light  the  glow 
Of  meteors  in  grave-vaults, — where,  seen  beneath 
Their  gleam,  are  things  of  fear,  of  foulness,  and  of 
death. 


IX. 

Malice  of  misbegotten  Calumny 
The  dragon  dam ;  and  poison  is  her  food : 
Till  from  her  horrid  lips  it  oozes  free, 
As  from  the  late-gorged  tiger's  jaws  the  blood. 
Her  sister,  Envy,  sickens  at  the  good, 
And,  like  all  things  of  rapine,  breathes  the  light 
With  Evil's  instinct ;  still  intent  to  brood 
On  schemes,  the  excellent  she  hates,  to  blight, 
To   sink    the    good    and    blest   to   noisomeness    and 
night. 


76  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 


The  cold  man-hater,  only  Falsehood's  friend, — 
No  partial  foe, — holds  all  his  kind  as  prey ; 
No  baleful  breath  his  carrion  heart  can  send 
Forth  to  the  sky,  that  does  not  blot  the  day ! 
O'er  hopes  and  hearts  he,  sweltering,  trails  his  way, 
Each  touch  a  death.     His  soul  secretes  the  lie 
As  snakes  their  venom :  instinct  bids  him  slay  ! 
The  noblest,  fairest,  perish  !     Ask  you  why  ? 
His  soul  exudes, — it  drops, — and  where  it  drops  they 
die! 


XI. 

As  guilty,  though  less  grave,  his  ribald  art 
Who  stains  in  merriment  and  stabs  in  jest, 
Beaching,  with  ruthless  glee,  his  victim's  heart  :— 
So  the  dark  Koman1  lent  his  feasts  a  zest 
By  sportive  slaughter  of  Kome's  first  and  best. 
They  who  thus  quench  life's  life,  its  all  of  worth, 
Oh,  can  they  dream  the  writhing  heart's  unrest 
Of  the  torn  victim  trampled  thus  to  earth  ? 
An   age's   misery  for  a  moment's   mocking   mirth ! 


SONNETS  ON  THE  LOED'S  PRAYEE, 


gn  spw&ilij  to  TO  tefow  ttje  Xnrli." 

ZECH.  viii.  21. 


I. 


/  will  be  a  Father  unto  you,  and  ye  shall  be  my  sons  and 
daughters,  saith  the  Lord  Almighty.  2  COE.  vi.  18. 


OUR  FATHER  !     Holiest  name,  first,  fondest,  best ! 

Sweet  is  the  murmur'd  music  of  the  vow 

When  young  Love's  kiss  first  prints  the  maiden's 

brow ; 
But  sweeter  to  a  father's  yearning  breast 

His  blue-eyed  boy's  soft  prattle.     This  is  love  ! 
Pare   as   the    streamlets   that   distil   through    moun 
tains, 
And  drop,  in  diamonds,  in  their  cavern'd  fountains ; 

Changeless,  and  true  all  earthly  truth  above. 

79 


80  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

And  such  is  Thine  !     For  whom  ?     For  all, — ev'n  me ! 
Thou,  to  whom  all  that  is  which  sight  can  reach 
Is  but  a  sand-grain  on  the  ocean-beach 

Of  being  !     Down,  my  soul :  it  cannot  be  ! 

But  He  hath  said  !     Up,  soul,  unto  His  throne ! 

Father, — "  Our  Father," — save  and  bless  Thine  own  ! 


II. 


Look  down  from  thy  holy  habitation,  from  heaven,  and  bless 
thy  people.  DEUT.  xxvi.  15. 


WHO  ART  IN  HEAVEN  !     Thou  know'st  nor  mete  nor 
bound. 

Thy  presence  is  existence.     'Neath  Thine  eye, 

Systems    spring    forth,    revolve,    and    shine, — and 

die; 

Ev'n  as  to  us,  within  their  little  round, 
The  bright  sands  in  the  eddying  hill-side  spring 

Sparkle  and  pass  forever  down  the  stream. 

Slow-wheeling  Saturn,  of  the  misty  beam, 
Circles  but  atoms  with  his  mighty  wing ; 

11  81 


82  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

And  bright-eyed  Sirius,  but  a  sentry,  glows 

Upon  the  confines  of  infinity. 

Where  Thou  art  not,  ev'n  Nothing  cannot  be ! 
Where   Thy  smile    is,   is   Heaven ;     where   not,— all 

woes, 

Sin's  chaos  and  its  gloom.     Grant  Thy  smile  be 
My  light  of  life  to  guide  me  up  to  Thee ! 


III. 


tttum. 


Holy  and  reverend  is  his  name. 
Ps.  cxi.  9. 


HALLOWED  BE  THY  NAME  !     In  every  clime, 
'Neath  every  sky !     Or  in  this  smiling  land, 
Where  Vice,  bold-brow'd,  and  Craft,  walk  hand  in 
hand, 

And  varnish'd  Seeming  gives  a  grace  to  Crime ; 

Or  in  the  howling  wild,  or  on  the  plain, 

Where  Pagans  tremble  at  their  rough-hewn  god ; 
Wherever  voice  hath  spoke,  or  foot  hath  trod  ; 

Sacred  Thy  name  !     The  skeptic,  wild  and  vain ; 

93 


84  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Housed  from  his  rosy  joys;  the  Osmanlite; 

The  laughing  Ethiop,  and  the  dusk  Hindoo ; 

Thy  sons  of  every  creed,  of  every  hue ; 
Praise  Thee  !     Nor  earth  alone.     Each  star  of  night, 
Join  in  the  choir !  till  Heaven  and  Earth  acclaim, 
Still,  and  forever,  Hallowed  be  Thy  name ! 


IV. 


tuum. 


Thy  throne,  0  God,  is  for  ever  and  ever :   the  sceptre  of  thy 
kingdom  is  a  right  sceptre.  Ps.  xlv.  0. 


THY     KINGDOM     COME!      Speed,    angel   wings,   that 

time ! 

Then  known  no  more  the  guile  of  gain,  the  leer 
Of  lewdness,  frowning  power,  or  pallid  fear, 

The  shriek  of  suffering,  or  the  howl  of  crime ! 

All  will  be  Thine, — all  blest !     Thy  kingdom  come  ! 
Then  in  Thy  arms  the  sinless  earth  will  rest, 
As  smiles  the  infant  on  its  mother's  breast ; 

The  dripping  bayonet  and  the  kindling  drum 

8  85 


86  DEVOTIONAL     POEMS. 

Unknown, — for  not  a  foe;  the  thong  unknown,-— 
For  not  a  slave ;  the  cells  o'er  which  Despair 
Flaps   his   black   wing,   and   fans   the    sigh-swoU'ri 
air, 

Deserted  !     Night  will  pass,  and  hear  no  groan ; 

Glad  Day  look  down,  nor  see  nor  guilt  nor  guile ; 

And  all  that  Thou  hast  made  reflect  Thy  smile ! 


V. 


Jiat  SMtttttag  tm,  &imt  in  (ttwU,  to  ttimi  in 


Teach  me  to  do  thy  will;  for  thou  art  my  God :  thy  spirit  is 
good;  lead  me  into  the  land  of  uprightness.  Ps.  cxliii.  10. 


THY  WILL  BE  DONE  ON  EARTH,  AS  'TIS  IN  HEAVEN  ! 

That  will  which  chords  the  music-moving  spheres 
With  harmonies  unheard  by  mortal  ears ; 

And,  losing  which,  our  orb  is  jarr'd  and  riven. 

Ours    a    crush'd    harp !      Its    strings    by    tempests 

shaken ; 

Swept  by  the  hand  of  sin,  its  guilty  tones 
Startle  the  spheres  with  discords  and  with  groans ; 

By  virtue,  peace,  hope, — all  but  Thee, — forsaken  ! 

87 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Oh,  be  its  chords  restrung !     Thy  will  be  done  ! 
Mysterious  law  !     Our  griefs  approve  that  will : 
For,  as  shades  haunt  the  night,  grief  follows  ill ; 

And  bliss  tends  virtue,  as  the  clay  the  sun. 

Homage  on  earth,  as  'tis  on  high,  be  given ; 

For  when  Thy  will  is  done,  then  earth  is  heaven ! 


VI. 


ttotfntm  qwMimm  to  wftfe  ftoflfe. 


He  that  walketh  righteously,  .  .  .  bread  shall  be  given  him. 
ISA.  xxxiii.  15,  16. 


GlVE     US     THIS     DAY     OUR     DAILY     BREAD  !          Thou 

art 
Lord    of    the    harvest.      Thou    hast    taught    the 

song 

Sung  by  the  rill,  the  grassy  vale  along ; 
And  'tis  Thy  smile,  when  Summer's  zephyrs  start, 
That  makes  the  wavy  wheat  a  sea  of  gold  ! 
Give  me  to  share  Thy  boon  !     No  miser  hoard 
I  crave;  no  splendour;  no  Apician  board  : 
Freedom,  and  faith,  and  food,— and  all  is  told  : 

12  89 


90  DEVOTIONAL    TOEMS. 

I  ask  no  more.     But  spare  my  brethren  !     They 
Now  beg,  in  vain,  to  toil;  and  cannot  save 
Their  wan-eyed  loved  ones,  sinking  to  the  grave. 

Give  them  their  daily  bread  !     How  many  pray, 

Alas,  in  vain,  for  food  !     Be  Famine  fed ; 

And  give  us,  Lord,  this  day,  our  daily  bread. 


VII. 


,  $\mt  tt 


Forgive,  and  ye  shall  be  forgiven. 
LUKE  vi.  37. 


FORGIVE  OUR  TRESPASSES,  AS  WE  FORGIVE 
THOSE   WHO  AGAINST  us  TRESPASS  !     Though   we 

take 

Life,   blessings,   promised   heavens,  from   Thee,  we 
make 

Life  a  long  war  'gainst  Him  in  whom  we  live ! 

Pure  once;  now  like  the  Cities  of  the  Plain, 
A  bitter  sea  of  death  and  darkness  rolls 
Its  heavy  waves  above  our  buried  souls. 

Yet  wilt  Thou  raise  us  to  the  light  again, 

91 


92  DEVOTIONAL    TOE  MS. 

Worms  as  we  are,  if  we  forgive  the  worm 

That  grovels  in  our  way.     How  light  the  cost, 
And  yet  how  hard  the  task !     For  we  are  lost 

In  sin.     Do  Thou  my  soul  uphold  and  form ! 

Bankrupt  and  lost  to  all  but  hope  and  Thee ; 

Teach  me  to  pardon ;  and,  oh,  pardon  me  ! 


VIII. 


m  w$  tottufftg  to 


Because  thou  hast  kept  the  word  of  my  patience,  I  also  will 
keep  thee  from  the  hour  of  temptation.  REV.  iii.  10. 


LEAD  us  NOT  IN  TEMPTATION  !     The  earth's  best 
Find  but  in  flight  their  safety;  and  the  wise 
Shun,  with  considerate  steps,  its  basilisk  eyes. 

Save  us  from  Pleasure  with  the  heaving  breast 

And  unbound  zone ;  from  Flattery's  honey 'd  tongue ; 
Avarice,  with  golden  palm  and  icy  heart ; 
Ambition's  marble  smile  and  earthy  art ; 

The  rosy  cup  where  aspic  death  is  hung ! 


94  DEVOTIONAL     POEMS. 

Better  the  meal  of  pulse  and  bed  of  stone, 

And  the  calm  safety  of  the  anchorite, 

Than     aught     that    life    can    give    of    wild    and 

bright ; 

Be  Thou  my  joy,  my  hope,  my  strength,  alone; 
Save  from  the  tempter.     Should  he  woo  to  ill, 
Be  Thou  my  rock,  my  shield,  my  safety,  still ! 


IX. 


God  delivereth  and  rescueth,  and  he  ivorJceth  signs  and  won 
ders  in  heaven  and  in  earth.  DAN.  vi.  27. 


DELIVER  us  FROM  EVIL  !     Hapless  race  ! 

Our  life  a  shadow,  and  our  walk  a  dream ; 

Our  gloom  a  fate,  our  joy  a  fitful  gleam; 
Where  is  our  hope  but  Thee !     Oh,  give  us  grace 
To     win     Thy     favour  !       Save    from     loud-voiced 
Wrong 

And  creeping  Craft.     Save  from  the  hate  of  foes ; 

The  treachery  of  friends ;  the  many  woes 
Which  to  the  clash  of  man  with  man  belong ! 


95 


96  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Save  those  I  love  from  want,  from  sickness,  pain ! 

And — spared    that    pang    of    pangs — oh,    let    me 
die 

Before  for  them  a  tear-drop  fills  my  eye ; 
And,  dying,  let  me  hope  to  meet  again  ! 
Oh,  save  me  from  myself!     Make  me  and  mine, 
In  life  and  spirit,  ever,  only  Thine ! 


X. 


tmm  t$t    *uw  ti 


Thine,  0  Lord,  is  the  greatness,  and  the  power,  and  the  glory, 
and  the  victory,  and  the  majesty ;  for  all  that  is  in  the  heaven  and 
in  the  earth  is  thine;  thine  is  the  kingdom,  0  Lord,  and  thou  art 
exalted  as  head  above  all.  1  CHEON.  xxix.  11. 


THINE    is    THE    KINGDOM,     POWEK,    AND    GLORY  ! 

Thine, 

A  Kingdom  based  on  past  eternity, 
So  vast,  the  ponderous  thought — could  such  thought 

be— 

Would  crush  the  mind !     A  Power  that  wills  should 
shine 

13  97 


98  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

A  million  worlds ;  they  shine  :  should  die  ;  they  die  ! 
A  Glory  to  the  which  the  sun  is  dim, 
And  from  whose  radiance  ev'n  the  seraphim. 

Heaven-born,  must  veil  the  brow  and  shade  the  eye ! 

And  these  are  Thine  forever !     Fearful  word, 
To  us,  the  beings  of  a  world  of  graves 
And  minutes  !     Yet  Thy  covenant  promise  saves  : 

Our  trust  is  in  Thee,  Father,  Saviour,  Lord ! 

Holy,  thrice  holy,  Thou !     Forever,  then, 

Be  Kingdom,  Power,  and  Glory  Thine.     Amen. 


BIBLE  BREATHINGS. 


The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath  taken  away ;  blessed  be 
the  name  of  the  Lord.  JOB  i.  21. 

Although  the  fig-tree  shall  not  blossom,  neither  shall  fruit  be  in 
the  vines;  the  labour  of  the  olive  shall  fail,  and  the  fields  shall  yield 
no  meat;  the  flock  shall  be  cut  off  from  the  fold,  and  there  shall 
be  no  herd  in  the  stalls:  yet  I  will  rejoice  in  the  Lord,  I  will  joy 
in  the  God  of  my  salvation.  HAB.  iii.  17,  18. 


BLESSED  be  Thy  name  forever, 
God  of  mercy,  God  of  might ! 

Of  all  gracious  gifts  the  Giver, 
Of  all  life  the  Lord  and  Light ! 

Bless  Thee,  for  the  rest  of  even  ; 
Bless  Thee,  for  the  joy  of  day; 

Peace  on  earth,  and  hope  of  heaven  ;— 

Blessed  ever, — bless6d  aye  ! 

101 


102  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Not  for  these  alone,  0  Father ! 

Bless  Thee,  not  for  joys  alone ; 
For  the  griefs  that  round  me  gather, 

For  my  misery  and  my  moan ! 
Bless  Thee,  with  a  bow'd  heart's  blessing, 

For  the  good  that  seems  the  ill ; 
Whether  chastening  or  caressing, 

Bless  Thee,  Father,  bless  Thee  still ! 


Bless  Thee,  for  th'  awakening  sorrow, 

"Weeping  o'er  the  early  dead ; 
Tearful  night  and  mournful  morrow, 

Sinking  heart  and  aching  head  ! 
Bless  Thee,  Lord !  for  Thou  dost  love  me, 

When  with  sickness  Thou  dost  smite ; 
Bless  Thee,  for  the  clouds  above  me,— 

'Tis  Thy  mercy  makes  them  bright. 


Blest  the  tempest  o'er  me  sweeping : 
For  o'er  Thee  the  storm  hath  swept ! 

Blest  my  weariness  and  weeping : 
Let  me  weep, — for  Thou  hast  wept ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  103 

Bless  Thee !  every  grief's  a  token, 

Calling  me  to  Thee  away  : 
Break,  my  heart !  for  His  was  broken : 

Bless  Thee  ever,  bless  Thee  aye ! 


Bless  Thee,  for  the  soul  that  yearneth 

With  a  lowly  love  for  Thee  ! 
Bless  Thee,  for  the  zeal  which  burneth, 

Thine,  in  life  and  death,  to  be  ! 
Bless  Thee,  for  the  life,  that  liveth, 

Vapor-like,  to  pass  away  ! 
Bless  Thee,  for  the  death,  that  giveth 

Life  to  bless  Thee,  Lord,  for  aye  ! 


the  fjdivmr. 


Lord,  make  me  to  knoiv  mine  end,  and  the  measure  of  my 
days,  what  it  is ;  that  I  may  know  how  frail  I  am.  Behold,  thou 
hast  made  my  days  as  a  handbreadth;  and  mine  age  is  as 
nothing  before  thee :  verily  every  man  at  his  best  estate  is  altogether 
vanity.  Ps.  xxxix.  4,  5. 


PALE,  trembling  watcher,  by  the  dark  grave's  brink, 
Why   dost    thou    falter?     Wherefore    shouldst   thou 

shrink  ? 

Death  is  no  foe ;  and  though — still,  stealthy,  near— 
His  creeping  footstep  breaks  upon  thine  ear, 
Why  shouldst  thou  weep  ?     With  vain  regrets  away  ! 
They  cannot  add  to  lapsing  life  a  day. 
Sorrow  and  fear,  themselves  the  shades  of  death, 
Hollow  the  cheek  and  check  the  struggling  breath : 

104 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  105 

Thus  the  frail  snow-wreath,  in  the  wintry  ray, 
Shrinks  from  the  sun,  and  weeps  itself  away. 
How  vain  the  sordid  fear,  the  miser  skill, 
That  o'er  life's  treasured  fragments  trembles  still, — 
Trembles  and  weeps,  to  mark  how  fast  decays 
The  wretched  remnant  of  his  tortured  days. 


Death  cannot  come  unless  it  come  from  High;1 
He  mocks  his  God  who  meets  it  with  a  sigh. 
Ungrateful,  too  !     Life  is  a  generous  boon, 
Which  claim'd  to-morrow,  is  not  claim'd  too  soon. 
'Tis  Heaven's,  not  ours, — the  lease  of  a  domain ; 
And  is  it  well,  when  claim'd  by  Heaven  again, 
To  yield  reluctant  our  departing  breath, 
And  meet,  with  moody  tears,  God's  steward,  Death  < 


When  earth  was  cursed,  and  life  a  dream  was  made, 
Where   crime   dogs    crime,    and    shade    still   follows 

shade, 

Death  would  have  been  the  worshipp'd  of  the  land, 
And  man  had  perish'd  by  his  own  right  hand  : 
But,  from  our  hearts  to  drive  this  fell  despair, 
The  instinct  dread  of  death  was  planted  there. 
Now,  when  relenting  nature,  sent  to  save, 
Opens  to  woe-worn  man  the  gentle  grave, 


14 


106  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

And  points  him  there,  his  griefs  and  perils  past, 

A  refuge  and  a  resting-place,  at  last ; 

What   hopes,   what    joys,    should   swell   his   grateful 

breast, 

To  greet  the  couch  that  yields  unbroken  rest  !2 
There  let  him  sleep  !     There  all  of  us  may  sleep. 
Why  o'er  his  tranquil  pillow  should  we  weep  ? 
A  sunlit  mind,  soul  generous,  bland,  and  brave ; 
My  twinn'd  heart  slumbers  in  his  distant  grave ! 
Yet,  o'er  the  blest  and  honour'd,  why  repine  ? 
His  is  the  cradled  calm, — the  tempest  mine.3 
Want  cannot  reach  him,  slander  cannot  harm ; 
No  spurn  can  wound  him,  and  no  power  alarm ; 
No  dreams  of  ill  can  haunt,  no  fate  affright, 
No  foe  can  wrong  him,  and  no  friend  can  slight. 
Sleep  !  thou  whom  ill  can  never  more  betide  ! 
Sleep  on !  would  I  were  resting  by  thy  side ! 

Why  wouldst  thou  live?     For  self?     Behold  the 

past! 

Such  is  the  future.     Wouldst  thou  have  it  last  ? 
Like  Arctic  mountains,  on  whose  hoary  brow 
Each  winter  adds  its  growing  weight  of  snow, 
Life  numbers  seasons  by  increasing  cares, 
And,  year  by  year,  a  heavier  burthen  bears. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  107 

But  for  thy  friend,  thou'lt  welcome  every  woe  ? 
A  day,  perchance,  will  make  that  friend  thy  foe. 
Or  for  thy  child  ?     Live ;  and  his  prayers  may  be, 
That  death  free  thee  from  ill, — and  him  from  thee  !4 
Or  for  thy  country  ?     Or  thy  race  ?     Away  ! 
Sneers,  scoffs,  and  wrongs,  thy  idle  pains  repay. 

Death   comes   too   soon,    'tis   said.     The   wise    and 

brave 

No  season  deem  too  early  for  the  grave  ;5 
In  youth,  mid-life,  and  age,  the  same  our  doom : 
The  best  has  fled ;  the  worst  has  yet  to  come. 
The  grave  alone  ne'er  changes.     On  its  breast, 
And  there  alone,  we  know  untroubled  rest  ;6 
Its  kindness  never  wavers,  wanes,  decays  : 
Death  is  the  only  friend  that  ne'er  betrays. 

Man   fears   not  age,  yet   shrinks  from  death.     He 

knows 

That  age  is  weariness,  and  death  repose; 
Yet,  from  a  coward  fear,7  he  trembling  prays 
To  be  accursed  with  length  of  wretched  days. 
To  bear  about  a  frame,  convulsed  with  pains, 
Whose  watery  blood  scarce  swells  its  frigid  veins ; 


108  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Yet  cling,  with  palsied  grasp,  to  torture  still, 
And    deem   deatli    comes    too    soon,    come   when   it 
will ! 

Death    cannot    sin.     Each    hour    boasts    now    its 

crime ; 

And  vice  and  folly  mark  the  pace  of  time. 
How  few  improve  with  years !     Ev'n  from  our  birth, 
Our  roots  strike  deeper  in  the  sordid  earth. 
The    grave  !      nor    guilt    nor    passion    haunts    that 

shore : 
We  sleep,  untempted,  there;  and  "sin  no  more."8 

Is  Death  a  stranger  to  thee  ?     Look  abroad ! 
'Tis  on  all  life, — the  signet-mark  of  God  ! 9 
Creation's  pale-eyed  offspring,  and  its  heir, 
Wherever  matter  is,  lo !  death  is  there  ! 
We  gaze  around,  and  see  but  death ;  we  tread, 
And  every  step  reverberates  o'er  the  dead ! 

Death,  in  thy  boyhood,  gamboll'd  at  thy  side ; 
Was    with    thee    still    in   manhood's    strength    and 

pride ; 

Mix'd  with  thy  toils  and  revels,  joy  and  woe ; 
And  wouldst  thou  meet  him  as  a  stranger  now  ? 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  109 

Mysterious  minister  !  whose  gentle  sway 
Draws  us  from  grief  and  gloom  and  guilt  away ; 
May  thy  dread  summons,  whensoe'er  'tis  sent, 
Meet  the  calm  courage  of  a  life  well  spent ; 
Take,  without  struggle,  our  expiring  breath, 
And  give  that  better  life  that  knows  no  death ! 


Mark  the  perfect  man,  and  behold  the  upright ;  for  the  end  of 
that  man  is  peace.  Ps.  xxxvii.  37. 

Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous,  and  let  my  last  end  be 
like  his.  NUMB,  xxiii.  10. 


WHEN  around  the  couch,  long  tended, 
Heavier  shadows  settle  down  ; 

And  the  zephyr  comes  unwilling, 
And  the  sunlight  seems  to  frown ; 

Pain's  familiar  sense  is  duller ; 

And  the  sick  heart's  feeble  flow, 
Like  a  caged  bird,  faint  and  frighted, 

Seems  to  flutter  to  and  fro ; 
no 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  Ill 

When  pale  shadows  troop  perpetual 

O'er  the  half-closed,  heavy  eye ; 
And  a  great  Thought,  dim  and  dreadful, 

Ever  whispers, —  Thou  must  die ! 

Whispers  lone,  and  low,  and  solemn, 

Yet  it  filleth  all  the  sky ; 
'Tis  the  surge  of  Time's  far  ocean, 

And  its  anthem, — Thou  must  die! 

Then,  when  earthly  hope  is  ashes ; 

Then,  when  earthly  aid  is  dust ; 
If  the  Saviour  be  our  portion, 

Faith  and  Grace  our  stay  and  trust  ; 

Let  the  worn  heart  throb  to  slumber 
With  a  sleep  that  ne'er  shall  wake  : 

Let  the  surge-like  voices  whisper : 
Angel  hymns  shall  o'er  them  break  ! 

For  the  orb,  to  us  declining, 

Dawns  within  a  brighter  sphere ; 
And  the  soul,  star-born  in  Heaven, 

Leaves  a  lingering  glory  here  ! 


Day  unto  day  uttereth  speech,  and  night  unto  night  showeth 
knowledge.  Ps.  xix.  2. 


PAST  and  lost  the  lightsome  childhood, 
Past  the  fair  and  frolic  May  ; 

As  the  red  leaves  strew  the  wildwood, 
Time's  sere  foliage  strews  our  way. 

Every  day  and  every  hour, 
Kindled  from  the  Life  above, 

Is  a  miracle  of  power, 
Is  a  miracle  of  love. 
112 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  113 

That  is  not  our  morning  natal 

Which  has  given  us  to  earth, 
With  its  phantoms  false  and  fatal : 

Life  crowns  but  the  spirit- birth. 

Suns  that  perish  cannot  measure 

Spirit-life's  eternal  day : 
Earthly  pain  and  earthly  pleasure, 

What,  unto  its  bliss,  are  they  ? 

May  that  life,  the  rich  and  real, 

Blest  and  blessing,  still  be  thine ; 
Then,  earth's  brief  and  dark  ideal 

Will,  with  deathless  radiance,  shine. 

Not  for  sin,  and  not  for  sorrow, 

Do  God's  worlds  of  glory  shine ; 
Diamonds  on  the  brow  of  morrow, 

Lo,  they  beam  with  joy  divine  ! 

May  thy  years,  revolving  duly, 

Thus  in  Duty's  orbit  move ; 
Serving  trustingly  and  truly, 

Shining  still  with  joy  and  love. 

15 


114  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Be  each  day  a  holy  Birthday, 
Life  that  fadeth  not  away ; 

Day  that  dies  not  with  the  earth-day, 
God  that  life,  and  Heaven  that  day ! 


Who  art  thou,  that  thou  shouldstbe  afraid  of  a  man  that  shall 
die,  and  of  the  son  of  man  which  shall  be  made  as  grass  ? 

ISA.  li.  12. 

Whosoever  therefore  shall  be  ashamed  of  me  and  of  my  words, 
of  him  also  shall  the  Son  of  man  be  ashamed. 

MAEK  viii.  38. 


WHO  is  the  basest  of  the  sons  of  men  ? 
The  wretch  who  hides  within  his  quivering  heart 
The  fear  of  God,  lest  ribald  fools  should  smile  : 
Who  steals  the  livery  of  vice,  and  feigns 
Sins  uncommitted,  or — committed — loathed  ; 
Who  mocks  with  writhing  mirth  and  falter 'd  speech, 
The  Awful  and  August,  to  court  the  praise 
Of  those  who,  hardier  in  their  guilt,  despise  him. 

115 


116  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

The  youthful  dotard  labours  to  efface 
The  heavenly  teachings  of  his  happier  days  : 
They  will  not  out !     Ev'n  mid  the  revel  shout, 
He  hears  the  whisper  of  his  mother's  prayers, 
And  shrinks  and  shudders.     With  a  fainting  heart, 
He  forces  back  the  tide  of  holier  thoughts, 
And  swaggers  with  the  braggart  brow  of  Sin. 
He  drinks, — the  gorge  uprising  to  the  cup ; 
He  laughs, — the  echo  seems  the  mirth  of  fiends ; 
His  ashy  lip  blasphemes, — with  phrase  uncouth, 
Startling  his  tempters  with  unwonted  crime. 
The  fluttering  zone  of  Pleasure  he  enclasps,— 
But,  at  his  touch,  a  skeleton  horror  glares, 
Loathsome  in  sin  and  noisome  with  the  grave. 

That  time,  should  voices,  once  revered,  recall 
His  torn  soul  from  the  tyranny  of  Sin, 
With  eyes,  he  sees  not, — save  the  mocker's  smile ; 
With  ears,  he  hears  not, — save  the  idiot's  sneer  ; 
And,  trampling  out  his  soul,  he  rushes  on,— 
Outmocks  the  mocking,  and  outdares  the  damn'd ! 

Now,  what  is  he,  who,  to  avert  a  sneer, 
Grovels  thus  'neath  contempt  ?     He  acts  a  part, 
A  guilty  part, — but  still  a  counterfeit. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  117 

He  hides  himself,  and  is  not  what  he  seems : 

His  tortured  conscience  gives  his  life  the  lie. 

The  sot  whose  word — a  feather  which  a  flaw 

Blows  to  and  fro — is  falsehood's  synonym ; 

The  prating  dolt,  whose  tongue  mocks  truth,  as  doth 

The  summer  rill  the  echo,  never  hush'd, 

And  never  heeded,  is  not  more  despised : 

In  word  and  deed,  earth's  basest  shame, — a  liar ! 

]STor  this  the  worst;  for  Fear  is  Falsehood's  father. 

His  aspen  soul  with  childish  terror  shakes 

In  the  vain  breath  of  every  knave  and  fool ; 

And,  daunted  by  a  sneer,  the  trembling  churl 

Surrenders  conscience,  duty,  manhood,  God  ; 

And  crawls,  the  spurner's  sport,  a  jellied  craven ! 


Liar  and  coward  !     Such  the  stuff  from  which 
Fiends  shape  the  hypocrite.     But  surely  he— 
The  mocking  maniac,  wearing  Satan's  badge 
As  conquerors  their  crowns — earns  not  the  name. 
A  hypocrite  !     Why,  Shame  and  Sin  and  Death 
Are  woo'd  and  won,  to  shun  that  dread  reproach. 
Yet  such  is  he ;  the  fiends  will  hail  him  thus  : 
The  basest,  blackest,  guiltiest  hypocrite  ! 


118  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

But  not  to  God !     He  is  too  proud  to  bow, 
Before  the  world,  unto  the  King  of  Heaven : 
The  insect  shames  to  own  th'  Omnipotent ! 
But  one  there  is  he  does  not  blush  to  pay 
The  hollow  homage  of  hypocrisy, 
A  feigned  fealty,  and  a  felon  faith. 
In  the  world's  eye  he  stands, — Sin's  traitor  slave,- 
To  falsehood  false, — a  HYPOCRITE  TO  SATAN. 


twetiiot. 


Pray  for  those  who  despitefully  use  you  and  persecute  you. 
MATTHEW,  v.  44. 


FORGIVE  th'  ungentle  hand  upraised  to  smite  us ; 

Forgive  the  harder  heart  and  harsher  tongue ! 
Let  not  Thy  wrathful  retribution  right  us ; 

Nor  add  our  brethren's  sufferings  to  our  wrong  ! 

Sin's  wintry  reign,  benumbing  and  benighting, 

Hath  chill'd  their  hearts ;  oh,  warm  them  with  Thy 
love ! 

Forgive !  their  wrongs  to  us  in  water  writing, 
Lost  be  the  record  in  the  light  above ! 

119 


120  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Forgive !  for  we,  alas,  too  oft  offending, 
Are  punish'd  justly,  suffer  when  we  may; 

Forgive !  Thy  grace  on  them,  on  us,  descending, 
Turn  from  our  wandering  souls  Thy  wrath  away  ! 

Forgive !  for,  swept  by  passion,  sway'd  by  error, 
Unaided  man  is  sin's  enshackled  slave; 

His  life  a  tortured  dream  of  tears  and  terror : — 
Lost  without  Thee,  oh,  pity,  pardon,  save ! 

Forgive  !     That  word  a  treasure  and  a  token, 
Our  sins  to  cancel  and  our  souls  renew : 

Forgive,  0  Lord !  for  Calvary  heard  it  spoken : 
"  Forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do  /" 


To  make  an  end  of  sins,  and  to  make  reconciliation  for 
iniquity,  and  to  bring  in  everlasting  righteousness,  and  to  seal  up 
the  vision  and  prophecy,  and  to  anoint  the  most  Holy. 

DAN.  ix.  24. 


"  WHERE  is  the  King  ?"     Thus  spake  the  sages, 

Seeking  the  Saviour  from  afar : 
"The  Christ,— the  God,— the  Eock  of  Ages,— 

Who  hither  led  us  with  His  star?" 

"  Where  is  the  King  ?"  But,  star-forsaken, 
They  search  the  palace-halls  in  vain  ; 

That  Star  of  Hope,  its  beams  were  breaking 
O'er  a  low  hut  on  Bethlehem's  plain. 

16  121 


122  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

They  saw, — rejoiced, — and  knelt  before  Him  : 
Nor  was  it-  strange  the  sages  bow'd ; 

For  glory  from  God's  throne  shone  o'er  Him, 
And  angel  anthems  hymn'd  aloud. 

"  To  God  be  glory  !"     Spirit  voices, 

Attuned  on  high,  now  thrill'd  the  earth ; 

"  And  peace  to  man  !"  thus  Heaven  rejoices 
Over  the  Saviour's  humble  birth. 

Joy !  for  our  orb's  eclipse  is  over ! 

Joy  !  earth  again  breathes  God's  own  breath, 
With  Faith  around  and  Love  above  her, 

Hope  to  the  hopeless,  life  to  death ! 


®fae 


I  was  sick,  and  ye  visited  me:  I  was  in  prison,  and  ye  came 
unto  me.  MATT.  xxv.  36. 

These  things  saith  the  Son  of  God:  I  know  thy  works,  and 
charity,  and  service,  and  faith,  and  patience.  EEV.  ii.  18,  19. 


11  CHA&ITY  never  faileth."     Come  with  me 
Unto  death's  chosen  temple.     Misery  holds 
His  skeleton  orgies  here.     Couch  answers  couch 
With  the  death-rattle.     Pale  despair  clings  close 
To  the  cold  breast  that  knows  no  other  friend. 
And   yet    the    heaven-wing'd    faith   that    hopeth    all 

things, 

Is  bolder  here  than  in  a  palace.     See 
Death's  angel  minis trant ;  for  God  can  fling 

123 


124  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

O'er    the    pure    heart    that    which    makes    earth    a 

heaven, — 
Plucks  pearls  from  life's  dark  depths, — and  from  the 

grave 
Wins  smiles  as  from  a  setting  summer  sun. 


She    knelt    beside    his    couch.      Her    fair,    slight 

hands 

Were  clasp'd  upon  her  breast ;  and  from  her  lips 
Her  spirit's  prayer  broke  murmuringly.     Her  eyes, 
Large,  dark,  and  trembling  in  their  liquid  light, 
Were  turn'd  to  heaven  in   tears;    and  through  her 

frame 

The  panic  of  a  moment  chilly  ran. 
'Twas  but  a  moment ;  and  again  she  rose, 
And  bent  her  form  above  the  bed  of  torture, 
Like  the  meek  lily  o'er  the  troubled  wave. 
Her  eye  was  brighter,  and  her  brow  more  calm, 
As,  with  untrembling  hand,  but  pallid  cheek, 
She  minister'd  unto  him.     He  was  dying. 
The  pestilence  had  smitten  him ;  and  he, 
Like  to  a  parchment  shrivell'd  in  the  flame, 
Wither'd  and  shrunk  beneath  it.     His  fair  brow 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  125 

Grew    black    and    blasted ;    and    where    smiles    had 

play'd, 

Horror,  despair,  and  agony  sat  throned. 
His   frame,    knotted    and   writhed,  lay  an    unsightly 

lump, 

"Wrung  with  unearthly  tortures ;  and  his  soul 
Struggled   in   death,    with   shrieks,    and   howls,    and 

horror. 
Men    veil'd    their    eyes,    and   fled.      Yet   she    stood 

there, — 

Still  sweetly  calm  and  unappall'd,  she  stood. 
Her  soft  hand  smooth'd  his  torture-wrinkled  brow, 
And  held  the  cool  draught  to  his  fever'd  lips. 
Her   sweet  voice    bless'd  him ;    and   his   soul   grew 

calm. 

Again  she  pray'd ;  and  on  his  brow  a  light — 
Was  it  not  hope  ? — broke  faintly ;  and  his  lip, 
Ashy  and  quivering,  breathed  a  low  Amen. 
Death  was  upon  him,  black  and  hideous  death, 
Eending  his  vitals  with  a  hand  of  flame, 
And  wrenching  nerves,  and  knitting  sinews  up, 
With  iron  fingers  : — yet  his  soul  grew  calm ; 
And  while  her  voice,  in  angel  accents,  spoke, 
Kose,  with  her   prayers,  to   heaven  !     One   look  she 

gave : 


126  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS, 

He  lay  a  blackening,  foul,  and  hideous  corse ! 
With  sickening  heart  the  pure  one  turn'd  away,— 
To  bend  her,  fainting,  o'er  another  couch. 

Who  would  not  give  a  life,  to  win  the  thoughts, 
By   seraphs    fann'd,   which    waked,    that   night,    the 

smile 
That,  on  her  pillow,  told  she  dream'd  of  Heaven  ! 


But  when  they  saw  him  walking  upon  the  sea,  they  supposed 
it  had  been  a  spirit,  and  cried  out :  for  they  all  sow  him,  and 
were  troubled.  And  immediately  he  talked  with  them,  and  saith 
unto  them,  Be  of  good  cheer :  it  is  I;  be  not  afraid. 

MAEK  vi.  49,  50. 


THEY  toil'd, — for  night  was  round  their  bark ; 

The  fierce  winds  toss'd  the  white  sea-spray ; 
And,  like  the  heavens,  their  hearts  were  dark,— 

For  Jesus  was  away, — • 
When,  lo,  a  spirit !     See  it  tread 

The  waves  that  wrestle  with  the  sky ! 
They  shriek'd,  appall'd  :  but  Jesus  said, — 

"Be  of  good  cheer:  'tis  I" 

127 


128  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

As  o'er  the  little  day  of  life 

The  gathering  cloud  advances  slow, 
And  all  above  is  storm  and  strife, 

And  darkness  all  below  ; 
What  heart  but  echoes  back  the  shriek 

Of  Nature  from  the  tortured  sky  ? 
But  hark  !  o'er  all,  a  whisper  meek  : — 

"Be  of  good  cheer :   'tis  //" 


Who  makes  affliction  here  our  mate? 

Links  love  with  death,  and  life  with  doom  ? 
Sends  Fears  ev'n  darker  than  our  Fate,— 

The  shadows  of  the  tomb  ? 
The  hand  that  smites  is  raised  in  love : 

He  seeks  to  save  who  bids  us  sigh : 
Who  !  murmurer  ?     Hark,— 'tis  from  above  !— 

"Be  of  good  cheer:  'tis  77" 


When  change  on  change,  and  ill  on  ill, 
Have  taught  the  trusting  heart  to  doubt ; 

When  earth  grows  dark,  as,  faint  and  chill, 
Hope  after  hope  goes  out ; 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  129 

Ev'n  then,  amid  the  gloom,  a  ray 

Breaks  lightly  on  the  heavenward  eye  ; 

And  Faith  hears,  o'er  the  desolate  way, 
"Be  of  good  cheer:  'tis  IT 

And  when  our  weary  race  is  run, 

The  toil,  the  task,  the  trial  o'er ; 
And  twilight  gathers,  dim  and  dun, 

Upon  life's  wave-worn  shore; 
When  struggling  trust,  and  lingering  fear, 

Cast  shadows  o'er  the  filmy  eye ; 
What  rapture  then  that  voice  to  hear! — 

" Be  of  good  cheer :  'tis  If 


17 


ifawgttt 


The  heavens  shall  reveal  the  iniquity  of  the  wicked. 
JOB  xx.  27. 


How  many  a  soul  that  seemeth  clear, 
Afree  from  sin  as  Mercy's  tear, 
Will,  lighted  by  th'  All-seeing  eye, 
Prove  inky  as  a  midnight  sky ! 

Thus  will  the  crystal  wave  retain 
The  nitrate,1  nor  yet  know  a  stain ; 
But  let  the  sun  the  liquid  light, 
It  trembles,  clouds,  and  turns  to  night 


130 


Wisdom's  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness,  and  all  her  ^>^ths  are 
peace.    Pnov.  iii.  17. 


BENEATH  Thy  Spirit's  hallowing  spell, 

The  desert  world  is  blest ; 
Its  murmurs  into  music  swell, 

Its  labours  lull  to  rest ; 
Its  sternest  fate  Thy  smile  can  bless, 

And  bid  its  tempests  cease : 
Thy  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 

And  all  Thy  paths  are  peace ! 


131 


132  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Our  rainbow  youth  is  brighter,  when 

Thy  Spirit  makes  it  bright; 
And  manhood's  yoke  is  easy  then; 

And  manhood's  burthen  light. 
Age  knows,  with  Thee,  no  weariness, 

And  sin  and  sorrow  cease  : 
Thy  ways  are  ways  of  pleasantness, 

And  all  Thy  paths  are  peace ! 


©to  fog  of 


giveth  to  a  man   that  is  good   in   his  sight  wisdom,  and 
knowledge,  and  joy.    ECCL.  ii.  26. 


THERE  is  a  joy  in  worth, 

A  high,  mysterious,  soul-pervading  charm ; 

Which,  never  daunted,  ever  bright  and  warm, 
Mocks  at  the  idle,  shadowy  ills  of  earth; 

Amid  the  gloom  is  bright,  and  tranquil  in  the  storm. 

It  asks,  it  needs,  no  aid; 

It  makes  the  proud  and  lofty  soul  its  throne : 
There,  in  its  self-created  heaven,  alone, 

No  fear  to  shake,  no  memory  to  upbraid, 
It  sits,  a  lesser  God ;  life,  life  is  all  its  own  ! 

133 


134  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

The  stoic  was  not  wrong  : 

There  is  no  evil  to  the  virtuous  brave ; 

Or  in  the  battle's  rift,  or  on  the  wave, 
Worshipp'd  or  scorn'd,  alone  or  mid  the  throng, 

He  is  himself, — a  man !  not  life's,  nor  fortune's  slave. 

Power,  and  wealth,  and  fame, 

Are  but  as  weeds  upon  life's  troubled  tide : 
Give  me  but  these,  a  spirit  tempest-tried, 

A  brow  unshrinking,  and  a  soul  of  flame, 

The   joy  of   conscious   worth,  its  courage  and  its 
pride ! 


ee  unto  me,  and  have  mercy  upon  me ;  for  I  am  deso 
late  and  afflicted.  PSALM,  xxv.  16. 

If  in  this  life  only  we  have  hope  in  Christ,  we  are  of  all  men 
most  miserable.  1  COR.  xv.  19. 


HEAVY  !    Heavy !    Oh,  my  heart 
Seems  a  cavern  deep  and  drear, 

From  whose  dark  recesses  start, 
Flatteringly,  like  birds  of  night, 

Throes  of  passion,  thoughts  of  fear, 
Screaming  in  their  flight : 

Wildly  o^er  the  gloom  they  sweep, 
Spreading  a  horror  dim, — a  woe  that  cannot  weep  ! 

135 


136  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Weary  !     Weary !     What  is  life 
But  a  spectre-crowded  tomb  ? 
Startled  with  unearthly  strife, — 

Spirits  fierce  in  conflict  met, 
In  the  lightning  and  the  gloom, 

The  agony  and  sweat ; 
Passions  wild  and  powers  insane, 
And  thoughts  with  vulture  beak,  and  quick  Prome 
thean  pain ! 

Gloomy, — gloomy  is  the  day : 

Tortured,  tempest-tost  the  night; 
Fevers  that  no  founts  allay, — 

Wild  and  wildering  unrest, — 
Blessings  festering  into  blight, — 

A  gored  and  gasping  breast ! 
From  their  lairs  what  terrors  start 
At  that  deep  earthquake  voice, — the  earthquake  of  the 
heart ! 

Hopeless  !     Hopeless  !     Every  path 

Is  with  ruins  thick  bestrown ; 
Hurtling  bolts  have  fallen  to  scathe 

All  the  greenness  of  my  heart; 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  137 

And  I  now  am  Misery's  own,— 

"We  never  more  shall  part ! 
My  spirit's  deepest,  darkest  wave 
Writhes  with   the  wrestling  storm.     Sleep !     Sleep  ! 
The  grave !     The  grave ! 

Maniac  murmurer !     Can  the  grave 
Charm  the  worm  that  never  dies  ? 
If  no  God  should  stoop  to  save, 

Freed  the  soul,  a  deathlier  doom 
Goads  its  ghastlier  agonies  : 

Man  sleeps  not  in  the  tomb  ! 
Not  man  for  earth, — nor  earth  for  bliss  : 
Up  !     Up  !     To  Christ !     No  home  in  such  a  world  as 
this ! 


is 


DEEM  not  the  heart  that  ne'er  hath  known 
Communion  with  its  heavenly  King 

Can  make  that  holier  bliss  its  own, 
Which  Grace  alone  can  bring. 


Were  every  earthly  virtue  thine, 

(Though,  Grace  unknown,  that  ne'er  might  be,) 
Still,  wanting  love  and  light  divine, 

How  vain  morality ! 

138 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  139 

Its  brightest  boasts  are  not  all  bright ; 

They  own  in  secret  self  their  birth  : 
Its  faint  beams  shine  but  in  the  night,— 

The  night  of  a  lost  earth. 

Eeligion  cannot  live,  'tis  true, 
•  Without  the  virtues  true  and  high ; 
Still,  virtue  which  Grace  never  knew 
Belongs  not  to  the  sky. 

The  life  which  thrills  this  mortal  frame, 
Divorced  from  heat,  would  cease  to  be ; 

Yet  are  not  heat  and  life  the  same, 
Nor  virtue,  piety. 


to  it  i<$ 


/  must  work  the  works  of  him  that  sent  me,  while  it  is  day  ; 
the  night  cometh,  when  no  man  can  work.  JOHN  ix.  4. 


WOEK  WHILE  'TIS  DAY  ;  for  the  dreary  night  cometh, 

When  the  laggard  lies  down,  but  it  is  not  to  sleep ; 
Scorn'd  Time  is  avenged  in  the  worm  that  ne'er  dieth;1 

Whatsoe'er  a  man  soweth  he  also  shall  reap.2 
Work  out  your  salvation  with  fear  and  with  trembling,3 

And  dull  not  the  duty  with  doubt  or  delay ; 
For  God  and  your  brother !  earth's  harvest-field  calls 
you; 

Then  faint  not,  nor  falter  ;4  but  work  while  'tis  day. 

140 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  141 

Work  while  'tis  day;  for  God  gave  not  your  being, 

A  mockery  of  life  and  a  burthen  to  men ; 
To  grow  and  to  grovel,  to  be  and  to  perish, 

Like  weeds  on  the  waste,  or  like  fogs  o'er  the  fen. 
Ye    were    form'd    for    a    purpose, — 'tis    active    and 
earnest, 

To  live  and  to  labour,  while  labour  you  may  ;5 
In  the  forum  or  furrow,  at  helm  or  at  hammer,6 

Whatever  the  duty, — still  work  while  'tis  day ! 


Work!    for    the    true    Christian    shrinks    from    no 

duty; 

His  spirit  of  love  and  of  power  is  brave  ;7 
Not  hearing,  but  doing;8  not  talking,  but  toiling;9 
Not    sleeping,10 — there's    slumber    enough    in   the 

grave. 

The  twelve  were  all  chosen  from  earth's  earnest  toils- 
men; 
St.  Paul  wrought  for  his  bread,  on  his  God-guided 

way  :u 

And  wist  ye  not  Christ,  in  the  work  of  the  Father,12 
Went  about  doing  good?13    Oh,  then,  work  while  'tis 
day  ! 


142  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Work  while  'tis  day.     It  is  not  in  seclusion, 

In  dim  dreams  of  duty,  that  duty  is  done : 
Come  forth,  from  the  coward  repose  of  the  cloister, 

To  the  field  where  the  good  fight  is  fought  and  is 

won  !14 
As  husband  or  father,  as  friend  or  as  brother, 

For  kith  or  for  country,  as  teacher  or  stay, 
There  are  deeds  to  accomplish,  by  love  and  by  labour, 

By  soul  and  by  sinew :  then  work  while  'tis  day ! 

Work  while  'tis  day.     True  Devotion  ne'er  wearies ; 

The  Faith  that  is  sluggard  is  cold  as  the  clod  ;15 
But  blest  is  the  servant,  whose  Lord  finds  him  faith 
ful;16 

Peace,  Honour,  and  Glory,  the  gifts  of  his  God  !17 
Then  cheerly  to  toil !  till  life's  task-work  is  over, 

And  the  voice  of  our  King  calls  His  chosen  away ; 
Oh,  sweet  is  their  sleep  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus, 

The  sleep  of  the  just,18  who  have  work'd  while  'twas 
day  f 


<rf  tb* 


7/1  they  obey  and  serve  him,  they  shall  spend  their  days  in 
prosperity,  and  their  years  in  pleasure.  JOB  xxxvi.  11. 

God  giveth  to  a  man  that  is  good  in  his  sight  wisdom,  and 
knowledge,  and  joy.  ECCL.  ii.  26. 

Thou  wilt  show  me  the  path  of  life  :  in  thy  presence  is  fulness 
of  joy ;  at  thy  right  hand  there  are  pleasures  for  evermore. 

Ps.  xvi.  11. 


To  him  whom  God  loveth,  how  lovely  is  life ! 
It  knoweth  not  sorrow,  it  knoweth  not  strife : 
'Tis  glad  in  His  smile ;  in  His  glory  'tis  bright ; 
'Tis  rich  in  His  bounty,  and  strong  in  His  might. 

Not  fetter'd,  nor  fear-worn ;  not  loveless,  nor  cold ; 
He  only  is  free,  and  he  only  is  bold : 
For  him  Hope  no  falsehood  hath,  Love  hath  no  tear, 
The  Past  no  reproach,  and  the  Future  no  fear. 

143 


144  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

His  heart  bounds  in  joy,  like  the  fount  on  the  height, 
That  sporteth  mid  greenness,  and  sparkleth  in  light ; 
Its  pure  voice  a  hymn,  and  its  pathway  a  joy, 
Enriching  the  earth,  but  reflecting  the  sky. 

His  thoughts  like  glad  birds  in  their  melody  rise ; 
Or  like  bright  racks  uplifted  till  lost  in  the  skies  : 
Sorrow,  smiling  on  him,  stands  an  angel  confest; 
And  his  heart-pulses  beat  to  the  harps  of  the  blest. 

Oh,  pure  is  the  Summer's  ethereal  blue, 

Which   the   glory   seems   quickening    and   quivering 

through  : 

But  purer  and  fairer,  more  cloudless  and  bright, 
Is  the  radiance  that  bathes  his  rapt  spirit  in  light. 

Oh,  calm  is  the  wave  where  the  fond  lilies  dip, 
And  tremble  not,  press'd  by  its  slumbering  lip ; 
Where  the  mirror'd  stars  sleep  as  unmoved  as  above : 
But  calmer  his  spirit  who  leans  on  God's  love. 

Oh,  sweet  is  the  morn's  breath,  when  its  roses  arouse, 
And  the  lark  shakes  Joy's  tear-drops  from  bud-laden 
boughs : 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  145 

But  sweeter  Love's  incense ;  and  sweeter  it  grows ; 
Nor  falls  like  the  dew-drop,  nor  fades  like  the  rose. 

The  slave  of  the  world  seeks  the  joys,  in  its  gloom, 
That  light  to  delude,  and  that  warm  to  consume ; 
And  finds  life  accursed,  with  its  storm  and  its  strife : 
But  to  him  whom  God  blesseth,  how  blessed  is  life ! 


wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  ptace  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  thee. 
ISA.  xxvi.  3, 


FATHER  !  be  with  the  wanderer  on  his  way ! 
Though  far  from  us,  he  yet  is  near  to  Thee: 
Thy  guardian  love — wherever  he  may  be — 

Is  there;  for  Thou  art  still  his  trust  and  stay. 

Oh,  be  it  ever  thus !  for  he  is  dear 

To  those  who  love  Thee,  and  who,  day  by  day, 
From  his  affections  drink,  as  'neath  the  ray 

Of  the  red  desert-sun,  with  holy  fear, 


146 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  147 

Thy  Israel  drank  the  bright  rock-water.     May 

Each  morn  that  gilds  th?  o'erwatching  mountain's 

height, 

See,  on  his  brow,  as  glad  and  pure  a  light, 
The  light  that  riseth  from  the  bosom's  day  ! 
Guard  him  and  guide  him  home, — the  symbol  here 
Of  that  bright  home  that  knows  no  travail  and  no 
tear ! 


Stonwt 


OH,  Saint  and  Seraph  !     Once  I  had  thy  prayers ; 

They  fell,  like  summer  rain,  upon  my  life : 

And  now,  amid  the  struggle  and  the  strife 
Of  a  rough  world,  my  fainting  spirit  dares 
(Is  it  a  fault  ?)  to  turn  its  prayers  to  thee. 

Thy  lake-like  soul  by  every  sigh  was  moved, 

All  lovely,  loving,  and  by  all  beloved : 
And  I  am  purer  that  thou  pray'dst  for  me ! 
Sweet  Spirit !     Thou  art  with  me  in  the  hour 

When     prayer     and     sleep    commingle,    and    the 
thought, 

148 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  149 

Rising,    like     sky-clouds,    heavenward,    melts     to 

naught :— 

Oh,  of  one  blessed  word,  the  wealth, — the  power  ! 
Pale  pleader  !  as  thou  wert  I  think  of  thee  : 
Seraph  !  (is  it  a  fault  ?)  Oh,  pray  again  for  me  ! 


swd  tb*  Infant. 


Is  it  well  with  the  child  f     And  she  answered,  It  is  well. 
2  KINGS  iv.  26. 


FIRST  SPIRIT. 

LINGERS  thus  our  love-watch'd  brother  ? 

Sister  spirit,  call  him  home ! 
Soothe,  with  heavenliest  balm,  his  mother ; 

But,  oh,  bid  him  come  ! 


SECOND   SPIRIT. 

O'er  his  couch  she  palely  prayeth, 
With  such  heart-throned,  holy  woe, 

That  our  angel  brother  stayeth, — 
Loth  to  stay  or  go ! 

150 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  151 

FIEST   SPIEIT. 

Sister  spirit,  whisper  to  her 

That  the  angels  call  her  child ; 
Weep  with  her,  and,  weeping,  woo  her 

For  her  Undefiled. 


SECOND  SPIRIT. 

Ah,  pale  mother !     Sisters,  let  her 
Still  enclasp  him  to  her  heart ! 

Can  we,  angels,  love  him  better  ? 
Must  we  bid  them  part  ? 


FIEST  SPIEIT. 

'Tis  the  Father's  mercy  calls  him ; 

And  his  Saviour,  ere  the  lot — 
Dark  and  harsh — of  Earth  befalls  him, 

Saith,  Forbid  him  not ! 


SECOND   SPIEIT. 

Aid  me,  then  :  oh  !  pray  the  Soother 
O'er  their  hearts  to  shed  His  dew  ! 


152  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Manly  father,  mourning  mother, 
We  will  weep  with  you  ! 


FIEST  SPIRIT. 


Tell  her, — saved  from  sin  and  sorrow, - 
Dropping,  lark-like,  from  the  sky, 

He  will  kiss — unfelt — to-morrow, 
The  tear-drop  from  her  eye. 


©fee  f  tt«t 


Behold  even  to  the  moon,  and  it  shineth  not;  yea,  the  stars 
are  not  pure  in  his  sight.  How  much  less  man,  that  is  a  worm  ? 
and  the  son  of  man,  which  is  a  worm  ?  JOB  xxv.  5,  6. 


THE  Infinite  !     In  vain  Thought's  glow-worm  ray 
Is  cast  into  that  Universal  Day. 
Creation's  all  an  atom  in  His  sight ; 
Its  space  a  span ;  a  spark  its  sea  of  light  I 
And  yet  man's  insect  eye  can  reach  afar 
To  the  faint  glimmer  of  that  solar  star, 
Whose    beam,   seen    now,   was   to   this   mote   world 

thrown 
Before  our  sun  its  primal  day  had  known, 


20 


153 


154  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Centuries  threescore  to  reacli  us !     Yet  its  light 

But  gilds  the  near  edge  of  the  Infinite ! 

The  crush'd  soul  gasps  with  terror :  can  it  be, 

That  He,  thought  faints  to  image,  thinks  of  me  ? 

Of  me,  "a  worm,"  so  mean  and  so  minute? 

'Tis  even  so  :  presumptuous  doubt,  be  mute  ! 

Infinite  vastness  must,  to  reason's  view, 

Include  an  infinite  minuteness  too. 

To  Him  omnipotent  in  each  as  all, 

An  atom  vast,  an  universe  is  small ; 

To  Him  (be  hush'd,  my  startled  soul !)  the  same 

The  fire-fly's  sparkle  and  the  central  flame ; 

A  moment,  and  a  new  Eternity 

Heap'd  on  what  was,  and  is,  and  is  to  be ! 

If  Galileo's  tube,  with  mighty  sweep, 
Crowds,  as  the  sea  with  drops,  the  upper  deep, 
Turn  to  the  blade  on  which  your  foot  hath  trod ; 
See  other  worlds, — and  wonder  at  their  God  ! 
A  less  infinity  is  here  unfurl'd ; 
Each  microscopic  molecule  is  a  world  : 
Atomic  realm  and  race,  before  the  eye, 
Still,  as  the  sight  enlarges,  multiply ; 
And,  instinct  with  creation's  spirit,  move, 
In  all  things  perfect  as  the  spheres  above. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  155 

Life,    love,     and    joy,    and     death,    with     us    they 

share : 
All  are,  alike,  God's  creatures  and  God's  care. 

Dare  man,  then,  in  earth's  tissue  but  a  thread, 
Born  with  the  mortal,  dying  with  the  dead, 
Hope  life  beyond  the  grave,  in  day-dreams  dim, 
Keserved,  of  all  earth's  clods,  alone  for  him  ? 
Whence  springs  that  hope?     If  from  himself  alone, 
'Twere  brief  and  fatal  as  the  mandrake's  moan. 
It  knows  a  higher  source,  a  holier  trust, 
Than    earth    and    time,    their    darkness    and    their 
dust. 

God,  for  some  purpose  wise,  all  things  design 'd; 
But  for  what  here  the  human  heart  and  mind  ? 
That   heart,   whose    needs   earth's    stores    can    ne'er 

supply ; 

That  mind,  that  joins  the  councils  of  the  sky, 
That  dares  to  stand  by  the  eternal  throne, 
And  makes  what  was,  and  is  to  be,  its  own  ? 
Think'st  thou  for  earth  these  attributes  of  Heaven, 
A  monster'd  mockery  and  a  curse,  were  given  ? 
As  well  both  Heaven  and  earth  at  once  deform, 
And  grace  with  seraph  wings  the  carrion  worm ! 


156  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

One  seal  man  bears,  one  empyreal  power, 

That    makes    him    form'd    not    for    the    earth    and 

hour,— 

Not  destined  but  for  sorrow  and  the  sod; 
Man,  and  man  only,  knows  to  worship  God  ! 
Look  up,  then ;  with  no  traitor  fear  afraid ; 
Not  wholly  mean  the  soul  which  God  hath  made ! 
Look     up     and     trust,  —  the    doubt     and    darkness 

past,— 

For  God  hath  spoken,  and  His  word  stands  fast ! 
Look  up,  my  soul;  not  scorn'd,  un treasured  not; 
Not  low,  not  lost,  not  unbeloved,  forgot; 
Eise,     o'er     the     crumbling     world     and     conquer'd 

grave,— 
For  Christ,  the  God,  hath  died  that  soul  to  save ! 


Death  is  the  doom  of  sin ;  and  over  all 
Time's   and  earth's  mouldering   myriads    spreads  its 

pall, 

Or  good  or  ill ;  neutrality  unknown  : 
Who  woos  the  evil,  maketh  death  his  own ; 
Who     steps    into    th'    abyss,    from    Heaven's    high 

wall 
Falls,  and  still  falls,  and  must  forever  fall ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  157 

What  sacrifice  could  save  ?     What  blood  atone  ? 
A  God  the  victim  for  a  race  undone  ! 
Wrestling  convulsions  tore  the  tortured  earth ; 
The    rocks    were    rent ;      the     sheeted     dead    went 

forth ; 

The  sun  in  reeling  darkness  closed  his  eye  ; 
Nor  saw  the  fainting  orbs  their  Sovereign  die ! 
All  that  Life,  Death,  and  deep  Hell's  living  grave 
Of  horror  know,  He  bore,  that  world  to  save, 
That  hour, — when  in  Gethsemane  He  stood, 
A  stricken  God,  His  wan  brow  sweating  blood ! 
Centred  within  that  bosom — fearful  thought  !— 
All  agonies  of  ages  fiercely  wrought ; 
Not  one  man's  death,  not  one  man's  tortures  there ; 
Millions  of  deaths,  and  ages  of  despair : 
The  Grave  and  Hell  of  all  became  His  own ; 
And  infinite  pangs  for  infinite  sin  atone ! 


It    o'er    us    breaks,   as    if   heaven's    arch    should 

fall; 

We  sink,  as  sank  the  stunn'd  and  blinded  Paul ; 
But   the    soul,    cramp'd    by   chains    and    hedged   by 

sin, 
Cannot  expand  to  let  the  glory  in. 


158  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Search  the  dark  heart,  with  introspective  ken, — 
Alas !  of  savage  sin  the  unsunn'd  den, — 
Then  to  His  radiance  turn,  distraught,  dismay'd : 
Can  such  a  price  for  such  a  wretch  be  paid  ? 
"Not  faithless,  but  believing,"  tremble,  trust! 
Christ  died  to  save, — "  the  just  for  the  unjust." 


God  is  in  mercy  boundless  as  in  might : 
He  sins  who  seeks  to  span  The  Infinite. 
Perfection  is  illimitable  Love, 
A  love  all  mete  beyond,  all  thought  above. 
Unmeasured  as  the  purpose,  was  the  price  ; 
For  boundless  love,  a  boundless  sacrifice : 
In  all,  His  awful  attributes  we  trace, — 
Infinite  Justice,  Mercy,  Love,  and  Grace. 
And    what    is    man,    that    he    such    Grace    should 

know  ? 

The  son  of  man,  thus  saved  from  self-won  woe  ? 
Saved,  by  the  sinless  blood  for  sinners  spent  ;— 
Saved,  by  the  agonies  of  th'  Omnipotent  ? 
What  can  he  render  back  for  life  so  bought  ? 
Thought  ?     Act  ?     Life  ?     Soul  ?— All  sinful,— all  are 

naught ! 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  159 

And  yet  His  ransom'd  shall  behold  His  face ; 
No  merit  theirs,  nor  meed ;  all  grace, — all  grace  ! 
Would    we    could    love    as    He    has    loved  !      Oh, 

would 
As  His  grace  boundless  were  our  Gratitude  I1 


It  is  a  good  thing  to  give  thanks  unto  the  Lord,  and  to  sing 
praises  unto  thy  name,  0  Most  High;  to  show  forth  thy 
loving -kindness  in  the  morning,  and  thy  faithfulness  every  night. 

Ps.  xcii.  1,  2. 


THE    gloom    hath    its    shapes,   and    the    silence   its 

warning  ; 
And    dim     terrors    troop    'neath    the    banner    of 

Night : 
But  God   guards   our   couch;   and  Joy  comes  in  the 

morning ; 
Our  souls,  like  the  orient,  rejoice  in  His  light. 

160 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  161 

Oh,  praise,  for  the  gentle  Sleep,  sitting  in  shadow, 
And   singing   sweet   songs   to  the  worn   heart  the 

while ; 
Its  balmy  spell  falls  as  the  dew  on  the  meadow, 

When    low    winds    caress,   and    the    loving    stars 
smile. 

Forgive,    if    ill    thoughts,    o'er    those    slumbers    so 

sainted, 
Career'd,   as   night  birds   o'er   the   sleeping   earth 

soar: 

Oh,  be  all  my  soul  like  the  crystal  untainted, 
Which,  stirr'd  in  the  font,  is  still  pure  as  before ! 

The  sun  to  his  journey  goes  forth  like  a  giant, 
Enrobed  by  his  Lord  with  the  radiance  of  day : 

Oh,  thus  be  my  pilgrimage,  lofty,  reliant, 
As  true  in  His  service,  as  strong  in  His  stay ! 

Vouchsafe  to  deliver  from  sin  and  from  danger ; 

My    loved    ones,    oh,    cherish     them,    guide    and 

defend ; 
Thy  grace  grant  my  foeman,  Thy  bounty  the  stranger ; 

And  blessings,  like  fruit-clusters,  hang  round  my 

friend ! 

21 


162  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

So  past  be  each  day,  that,  when  all  days  are  over, 
When  the  blind  sun  hath  sunk,  a  spent  spark,  from 
the  sky, 

My  soul  shall — though  darkness  the  universe  cover — 
Arise  to  that  Sun  where  the  day  cannot  die  ! 


I  will  both  lay  me  down  in  peace  and  sleep  :  for  thou,  Lord, 
only  makest  me  dwell  in  safety.  Ps.  iv.  8. 


PKAISE  for  the  blessed  day  ! 

Pardon  for  all  its  wrath,  for  all  its  wrong ! 
May,  like  its  sun,  life  pass  away ; 

Or  like  the  sweet  notes  of  its  last  bird's  song. 

When  sleep  hath  seal-'d  mine  eye, 

And  the  unconscious  arm  forgets  to  guard, 

Be  Thou,  that  never  slumberest,1  nigh ! 

Faith  sleeps  in  peace,  whiles  God  keeps  watch  and 
ward ! 

163 


164  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

"When  night  is  on  the  earth, 

Then  forest  tyrants  prowl  abroad  for  prey ; 
Thus  guilty  thoughts,  in  dreams,  steal  forth : 

But  be  Thou  in  my  heart, — its  night  is  day ! 

Bless  Thee,  0  Lord,  for  sleep ; 

The  brave  and  free ;  nor  slave  to  Want  nor  "Will ! 
Its  mimic  world  forgets  to  weep ; 

The  wrong  is  righted,  and  the  storm  is  still ! 

The  panting  soul  drinks  deep 

From  its  untroubled  founts,  and  lives  anew :. 
Thus  may  I  rise,  new-born,  from  sleep, 

Thy  word  to  cherish,  and  Thy  will  to  do ! 

Death  is  the  worn  soul's  rest, 

And  sleep  the  body's ;  both  are  sent  to  save  : 
After  life's  weary  day,  oh,  blest 

And  welcome  as  my  couch  may  be  my  grave ! 

When  my  last  night  shall  fall, 

Unto  its  morrow  be  Thy  Day-star  given ; 
When  my  last  sleep  this  breast  shall  pall, 

May  I,  through  Jesus'  grace,  awake  in  heaven ! 


Our  heart  shall  rejoice  in  him,  because  we  have  trusted  in 
his  holy  name.  Ps.  xxxiii.  21. 

All  things  work  together  for  good  to  them  that  lave  God. 

ROM.  viii.  28. 


WHY  should  I  fear  !     Why  tremble? 

I  know  in  whom  I  trust : 
Not  mine  the  rainbow  hope  that  weeps 

Bright  tear-drops  in  the  dust. 
My  conscious  soul  bears  witness, 

Nor  asks  of  sage  or  seer ; 
I  feel  that  my  Redeemer  lives : 

Then  wherefore  should  I  fear  ? 


165 


166  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Though  I  be  weak, — a  shadow, — 

A  sere  leaf  on  the  wave; — 
A  graveyard  meteor  flitting  by, — • 

Is  He  not  strong  to  save  ? 
A  present  help  in  trouble  ? 

No  other  aid  I  seek ; 
If  I  am  His,  His  might  is  mine : 

Then  who  shall  call  me  weak? 


If  pallid  Penury  smite  me, 

If  ever  poor  as  He, 
Earth's  beggar  wealth  is  poorer  far 

Than  can  His  followers  be. 
Our  Heaven-intrusted  treasures 

Beyond  the  grave  endure ; 
And  rich  in  Hope,  in  Faith,  and  Grace, 

Oh,  how  can  we  be  poor  ? 


And  what  though  sorrow-clouded  ? 

Beyond  that  cloud  our  sky 
Is  light  and  love ;  there  Christ  will  wipe 

The  tears  from  every  eye. 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  167 

Eternal  morning  dawneth, 

With  heavenly  glory  glad ; 
And  coming  day  makes  bright  the  night : 

Then  say  not  we  are  sad. 


And  am  I  scorn'd  ?     Earth's  honour, — 

A  torch-light  in  the  tomb  ! 
The  world  a  pyre, — 'twere  darkness,  if 

His  smile  lit  not  the  gloom. 
Since  man  reviled  his  Maker, 

And  Calvary's  cross  was  borne, 
There  is  no  glory  out  of  heaven : 

Earth  cannot  do  us  scorn  ! 


Do  life's  wild  storms  o'erwhelm  me, 

His  voice  the  wave  can  calm ; 
Should  shrivell'd  sickness  waste  my  frame, 

In  Gilead  there  is  balm. 
And  e'en  in  Death's  dark  valley 

God's  starry  words  shine  clear, 
That  who  believes,  shall  never  die : 

Then  wherefore  should  I  fear  ? 


w  worn 


Sin  no  more,  lest  a  worse  thing  come  unto  thee. 
JOHN  v.  14. 


ART  thou  young,  yet  hast  not  given 
Dewy  bud  and  bloom  to  Heaven? 

Tarriest  till  Life's  morn  be  o'er? 
Pause  or  ere  the  bolt  is  driven! 
Sin  no  more  ! 

Art  thou  aged?     Seek'st  thou  power? 
Rank,  or  gold, — of  dust  the  dower  ? 

Fame  to  wreathe  thy  wrinkles  hoar  ? 
Dotard  !  death  hangs  o'er  thy  hour  ! 
Sin  no  more! 

168 


DEVOTIONAL    POEMS.  169 

Art  thou  blest?     False  joys  caress  thee  ; 
And  the  world's  embraces  press  thee 

To  its  hot  and  canker'd  core : 
Waken  !  Heaven  alone  can  bless  thee. 
Sin  no  more  ! 

Art  thou  wretched  ?     Hath  each  morrow 
Sown  its  sin  to  reap  its  sorrow  ? 

Turn  to  Heaven, — repent, — adore  : 
Hope  new  light  from  Faith  can  borrow  ; 
Sin  no  more  ! 

May  a  meek  and  rapt  devotion 
Fill  thy  heart,  as  waves  the  ocean, 

Glassing  heaven  from  shore  to  shore : 
Then  wilt  thou — calm'd  each  emotion— 
Sin  no  more! 


This  people  have  I  formed  for  myself  ;  they  shall  show  forth 
my  praise.  ISA-  x"^1<  **• 


WHY  was  this  world  —  the  beautiful  —  created, 
With  all  its  wondrous  wealth  of  life  and  light, 
Oceans,  and  sky-crown'd  hills,  and  valleys  bright, 

Fragrant  with  zephyrs  soft,  to  music  mated  ? 

Why  !     That  man,  quicken'd  by  God's  breath,  should 

start 

Forth  from  its  dust  ;  and,  His  vicegerent,  reign, 
Lord  of  the  varied  and  the  vast  domain. 

And  why  was  man  created  ?     That  his  heart 
no 


DEVOTIONAL     POEMS.  171 

Should  mirror  Heaven,  as  ocean  doth  the  sun ; 

And    make    the    earth    an    altar,    whence    should 

rise, 

From  free  souls  sinless,  incense  to  the  skies. 
But  wherefore  worship  thus  the  Holy  One  ? 
To  win  His  smile, — all  that  gives  life  its  worth, — 
And,    conquering    Heaven,    to    make    a    heaven    of 
earth ! 


Winter. 


TTe  that  goeth  forth  and  weepeth,  bearing  precious  seed,  shall 
doubtless  come  again  with  rejoicing,  bringing  his  sheaves  wifh 
him.  Ps.  cxxvi.  <i 


THE  snow-flakes  kiss  the  ploughman's  crimson'd  face ; 

He  guides  the  share  and  turns  the  furrow  still, 
With,  manly  patience  and  with  measured  pace, 

Nor  heeds  the  winter  lingering  on  the  hill. 

The  foamy  flood  roars  sullen  through  the  vale ; 

The  crow-flocks  flap  the  blast  with  labouring  wings ; 
The  bare  oak  shivers  in  the  northern  gale  :— 

But  on  the  topmost  bough  the  blue-bird  sings. 

172 


DEVOTIONAL     POEMS.  173 

It  sings  of  spring, — the  ploughman  hears  the  song, — 
Of  bridal  April  and  of  blooming  May  : 

And  as  he  treads  with  sturdy  step  along, 
Hope  in  his  bosom  sings  the  selfsame  lay. 

He  hears  the  Summer  rustling  in  his  corn ; 

Cloud  chases  cloud  across  his  bending  grain ; 
The  mower's  scythe-song  greets  the  golden  morn, 

The  soft  eve  welcomes  home  the  loaded  wain. 

And  Autumn's  wealth,  its  pleasures  and  its  pride, 
His  heart  with  joy,  his  ear  with  music,  fill ; 

His  plough  he  follows  with  a  quicker  stride, 
Nor  heeds  the  winter  lingering  on  the  hill. 

Thus  to  the  Christian, — wheresoe'er  he  roam,— 
Planting  the  Orient,  Afric,  or  the  Isles, 

Or  the  frost-fetter'd  fields,  alas  !  of  home,— 
A  promised  harvest  mid  the  winter  smiles. 

Spring  coy  and  cold,  the  labourers  faint  and  few ; 

The  hard,  chill  glebe  unyielding  to  the  share ; 
The  shrill  blast  shrieks  the  leafless  forest  through  : 

But  from  on  High  a  voice  dispels  despair. 


174  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

Before  him  the  redeem'd — Christ's  harvest — stand ; 

And  hosts  with  hymns  of  praise  his  bosom  thrill ; 
His  plough  he  seizes  with  a  strengthen'd  hand, 

ISTor  heeds  the  winter  lingering  on  the  hill. 


Jftnrait 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  AGED  CHRISTIAN. 


"0    DEATH,   where    is    thy   sting?"     he    said,   and 

smiled, — 

That   wither'd,    white-hair 'd   man   of    God. — "  Be 
hold  ! 

Is  that  sting  here?" — Glorious  of  soul,  and  bold 
For  holy  Truth,  yet  lowly  as  a  child, 
The  Saint  and  Sage  was  dying  !     But  the  light 
Of  his  rapt  soul  met  radiance  from  above  :— 
"  Tell    me,    my    friends,    doth    not    this    moment 

prove 
That  on  the  living  Rock  of  Truth  and  Right 

175 


176  DEVOTIONAL    POEMS. 

My  faith  was  founded  ?     Let  my  latest  breath 
Ask,  is  there  here  for  bigot  fancy  room  ? 
Here,    in    the    dread    calm   of    th'   o'ershadowing 

tomb? 

No  !  '  Tis  Reality  !     And  now  in  death 
I  know  it,  and  am  happy!" — So  he  died;— 
Or  so  began  to  live : — for  all  is  death  beside  ! 


NOTES. 


NOTES. 


DEITY. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  18. 
The  fool  hath  said  in  his  heart,  There  is  no  God.       Ps.  xiv.  1, 

-/ 

NOTE  2.     PAGE  18. 

Bold  with  joy, 

Forth  from  his  dark  and  lonely  hiding-place 
(Portentous  sight!)  the  owlet  Atheism, 
Sailing  on  obscene  wings  athwart  the  noon, 
Drops  his  blue-fringed  lids,  and  holds  them  close, 
And,  hooting  at  the  glorious  Sun  in  heaven, 
Cries  out,  "  Where  is  it  ?" 

Coleridge, 
179 


180  NOTES. 


NOTE  3.     PAGE  21. 

The  Sepharvites  burnt  their  children  in  fire   to  Aclram- 
melech.  2  Kings  xvii.  31. 


NOTE  4.     PAGE  21. 

And  Solomon  did  evil  in  the  sight  of  the  Lord.  .  .  .  Then 
did  Solomon  build  a  high  place  for  Chemosh,  the  abomination 
of  Moab,  in  the  hill  that  is  before  Jerusalem,  and  for  Molech, 
the  abomination  of  the  children  of  Ammon. 

1  Kings  xi.  6,  7. 


NOTE  5.     PAGE  21. 

Then  the  lords  of  the  Philistines  gathered  them  together 
for  to  offer  a  great  sacrifice  unto  Dagon  their  god,  and  to 
rejoice.  .  .  .  And  they  called  for  Samson  out  of  the  prison- 
house  ;  and  he  made  them  sport :  and  they  set  him  between 
the  pillars.  .  .  .  And  Samson  took  hold  of  the  two  middle 
pillars  upon  which  the  house  stood.  . .  .  And  Samson  said, 
Let  me  die  with  the  Philistines.  And  he  bowed  himself 
with  all  his  might ;  and  the  house  fell  upon  the  lords,  and 
upon  all  the  people  that  were  therein.  Judges  xvi.  23-30. 


NOTE  6.    PAGE  21. 

And  they  forsook  the  Lord,  and  served  Baal  and  Ashta- 
roth.     And  the  anger  of  the  Lord  was  hot  against  Israel. 

Judges  ii.  13,  14. 


NOTES.  181 


NOTE  7.     PAGE  22. 

The  Greek  and  Roman  mythology  sufficiently  explains  the 
moral  turpitude  of  those  nations.  The  praise  which  a  classic 
partiality  bestows  upon  "  Greek  and  Roman  virtue"  cannot 
be  vindicated  by  their  history  or  their  literature.  In  their 
origin,  their  feebleness  and  poverty  rendered  the  few  negative 
virtues  which  they  possessed  necessary  for  their  defence  and 
existence ;  but,  even  then,  wrong,  when  convenient  and  pro 
fitable,  was  seldom  pretermitted ;  and  with  the  ability  to 
indulge  the  propensities  inculcated  by  their  religion,  were 
developed  vices  for  which  modern  civilization,  with  all  its 
iniquities,  has  no  parallel.  A  truthful  picture  of  the  moral 
profligacy  of  the  ancients  would  be  too  hideous  and  revolting 
to  be  tolerated  by  the  modern  reader.  Historians  too  gene 
rally  affect  to  ascribe  the  decay  of  those  nations  to  the 
natural  effects  of  overgrown  triumph  and  excessive  power 
and  wealth  :  the  real  cause  is  to  be  found  in  a  religion  that 
besotted  the  people.  The  Christian  patriot  may  confidently 
anticipate  a  brighter  destiny  in  the  future  of  his  country. 


NOTE  8.     PAGE  22. 

Sophroniscus'  son. — Socrates  has  been  held  up  by  some 
writers  as  a  martyr  for  the  belief  of  one  only  God,  in  oppo 
sition  to  the  prevailing  polytheism ;  and  it  has  been  argued 
that  the  last  religious  act  of  his  life,  the  directing  a  sacrifice 
to  jEsculapius,  was  meant  to  ridicule  the  god  to  whom  this 
office  of  worship  was  rendered, — thus  representing  the  best 
character  of  antiquity  as  playing  the  hypocrite  or  buffoon  on 
the  brink  of  the  grave.  The  truth  is  that  Socrates  attempted 
to  reform,  not  to  overthrow,  the  heathen  worship.  He 


182  NOTES. 

exhorts  his  disciples  to  consult  the  pagan  oracles  in  all 
matters  that  were  beyond  the  reach  of  human  foresight.  He 
was  a  strict  observer  of  the  religious  rites  of  his  country,  and 
even  believed  himself  to  be  under  the  immediate  and  super 
natural  influence  of  one  of  the  pagan  deities, — the  celebrated 
demon  of  Socrates. 

NOTE  9.    PAGE  24. 

Hear,  0  Israel :  The  Lord  our  Grod  is  one  Lord. 

Deut.  vi.  4. 

NOTE  10.    PAGE  24. 

This  then  is  the  message  which  we  have  heard  of  him,  and 
declare  unto  you,  that  God  is  light,  and  in  him  is  no  darkness 
at  all.  1  John  i.  5. 

NOTE  11.    PAGE  24. 

Thy  righteousness  is  like  the  great  mountains ;  thy  judg 
ments  are  a  great  deep :  0  Lord,  thou  preservest  man  and 
beast.  Ps.  xxxvi.  6. 

NOTE  12.    PAGE  24. 

The  Lord  on  high  is  mightier  than  the  noise  of  many 
waters,  yea,  than  the  mighty  waves  of  the  sea. 

Ps.  xciii.  4. 


NOTE  13.     PAGE  24. 

For  thus  saith  the  high  and  lofty  One  that  inhabiteth  eter 
nity,  whose  name  is  Holy.  Isa.  Ivii.  15. 


NOTES.  183 


NOTE  14.     PAGE  24. 

For  I  am  the  Lord,  I  change   not;   therefore  ye  sons  of 
Jacob  are  not  consumed.  Mai.  iii.  6. 


NOTE  15.    PAGE  24. 

He  ruleth  by  his  power  for  ever;    his   eyes  behold  the 
nations :  let  not  the  rebellious  exalt  themselves. 

Ps.  Ixvi.  7. 

NOTE  16.    PAGE  24. 

For  he  knoweth  our  frame ;  he  remembereth  that  we  are 
dust. 


IMAGE-WOKSHIP. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  28. 

In  the  first  three  centuries  after  Christ,  the  Christians  had 
no  paintings  nor  images  in  the  churches.  In  the  fourth  and 
fifth  centuries,  the  images  of  bishops  and  martyrs  were  intro 
duced  in  places  of  worship,  but  without  adoration ;  but  in 
the  sixth  century,  people  began  to  kiss  them,  to  burn  lights 
and  offer  incense  in  honour  of  them,  and  to  ascribe  to  them 
miraculous  power.  Under  the  Eastern  emperor  Constan- 
tine  V.,  a  council  was  held  at  Constantinople,  (A.  D.  754,)  in 
which  the  use  as  well  as  worship  of  images  was  condemned. 
Leo,  his  son  and  successor,  also  opposed  image-worship  ;  but 
his  wife  Irene  caused  him  to  be  poisoned,  in  780 ;  and,  under 
her  influence,  a  Council  at  Nice  (786)  [not  to  be  confounded 
with  the  venerable  Council  of  Nice  of  A.  D.  325,  which  esta- 


184  NOTES. 

lished  the  Nicene  Creed]  restored  the  worship  of  images,  and 
punished  those  that  maintained  that  nothing  but  God  should 
be  worshipped.  Her  son,  Constantine  VI.,  having  assumed 
the  reins  of  government,  banished  Irene  from  the  court ; 
but  "her  haughty  spirit  condescended  to  the  arts  of  dissimu 
lation  ;  she  flattered  the  bishops  and  eunuchs,  revived  the 
filial  tenderness  of  the  prince,  regained  his  confidence  and 
betrayed  his  credulity."  (Gibbon.}  She  succeeded  in  forming 
a  powerful  conspiracy  against  him ;  and,  according  to  the 
writer  just  quoted,  "  he  was  borne  to  the  porphyry  apartment 
of  the  palace  where  he  had  first  seen  the  light.  In  the  mind 
of  Irene,  ambition  had  stifled  every  sentiment  of  humanity 
and  nature ;  and  it  was  decreed  in  her  bloody  council  that 
Constantine  should  be  rendered  incapable  of  the  throne  ;  her 
emissaries  assaulted  the  sleeping  prince,  and  stabbed  their 
daggers  with  such  violence  and  precipitation  into  his  eyes,  as 
if  they  meant  to  execute  a  mortal  sentence."  Thus  was 
image-worship  established  in  the  Christian  Church !  To  the 
bloody  deed  of  Irene  was  attributed  a  darkness  of  seventeen 
days  which  immediately  ensued,  during  which  many  vessels, 
in  mid-day,  were  driven  from  their  course.  Irene  died  in 
exile  and  wretchedness ;  but  her  services  in  the  cause  of 
iconolatry  were  not  wholly  unrewarded :  she  still  retains  her 
place  in  the  calendar  as  a  saint. 

The  controversy  was  afterwards  renewed.  The  Emperor 
Theophilus  was  the  last  of  the  Iconoclasts,  or  image-breakers. 
After  his  death,  his  widow  "by  the  fiction  of  a  tardy  repent 
ance  absolved  the  fame  and  the  soul  of  her  deceased 
husband ;  the  sentence  of  the  Iconoclast  patriarch  was 
commuted  from  the  loss  of  his  eyes  to  a  whipping  of  two 
hundred  lashes ;  the  bishops  trembled  ;  the  monks  shouted  ; 
and  the  festival  of  Orthodoxy  preserved  the  annual  memory 
of  the  triumph  of  images." 


NOTES.  185 

BLASPHEMY. 
NOTE  1.     PAGE  32. 

And  Saul  sware  to  her  by  the  Lord,  saying,  As  the  Lord 
liveth,  there  shall  no  punishment  happen  to  thee  for  this 
thing.  1  Sam.  xxviii.  10. 

NOTE  2.     PAGE  33. 

And  Jephthah  vowed  a  vow  unto  the  Lord,  and  said,  If 
thou  shalt  without  fail  deliver  the  children  of  Ammon  into 
mine  hands,  then  it  shall  be,  that  whatsoever  cometh  forth 
of  the  doors  of  my  house  to  meet  me,  when  I  return  in  peace 
from  the  children  of  Ammon,  shall  surely  be  the  Lord's, 
and  I  will  offer  it  up  for  a  burnt-offering.  . .  .  And  he  smote 
them.  .  .  .  And  Jephthah  came  to  Mizpeh  unto  his  house, 
and,  behold,  his  daughter  came  out  to  meet  him  with  tim 
brels  and  with  dances :  and  she  was  his  only  child ;  beside 
her  he  had  neither  son  nor  daughter.  And  it  came  to  pass, 
when  he  saw  her,  that  he  rent  his  clothes,  and  said,  Alas,  my 
daughter !  thou  hast  brought  me  very  low,  and  thou  art  one 
of  them  that  trouble  me :  for  I  have  opened  my  mouth  unto 
the  Lord,  and  I  cannot  go  back.  And  she  said  unto  him, 
My  father,  if  thou  hast  opened  thy  mouth  unto  the  Lord,  do  to 
me  according  to  that  which  hath  proceeded  out  of  thy  mouth ; 
forasmuch  as  the  Lord  hath  taken  vengeance  for  thee  of 
thine  enemies,  even  of  the  children  of  Ammon.  And  she 
said  unto  her  father,  Let  this  thing  be  done  for  me :  let  me 
alone  two  months,  that  I  may  go  up  and  down  upon  the 
mountains,  and  bewail  my  virginity,  I  and  my  fellows.  And 
he  said,  Go.  And  he  sent  her  away  for  two  months :  and  she 
went  with  her  companions,  and  bewailed  her  virginity  upon 
the  mountains.  And  it  came  to  pass  at  the  end  of  two 
months,  that  she  returned  unto  her  father,  who  did  with  her 
according  to  his  vow  which  he  had  vowed.  Judges  xi.  30-39. 

24 


186  NOTES. 

FILIAL  PIETY. 

NOTE  1.     PAGE  40. 

And  he  [Elisha]  went  up  from  thence  unto  Beth-el :  and  as 
he  was  going  up  by  the  way,  there  came  forth  little  children 
out  of  the  city,  and  mocked  him,  and  said  unto  him,  Go  up, 
thou  bald  head ;  go  up,  thou  bald  head.  And  he  turned 
back,  and  looked  on  them,  and  cursed  them  in  the  name 
of  the  Lord.  And  there  came  forth  two  she  bears  out  of 
the  wood,  and  tare  forty  and  two  children  of  them. 

2  Kings  ii.  23,  24. 

NOTE  2.    PAGE  41. 

And  he  said,  Cursed  be  Canaan  ;  a  servant  of  servants  shall 
he  be  unto  his  brethren.  Gen.  ix.  25. 


HOMICIDE. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  55. 

If  the  Son  therefore  shall  make  you  free,  ye  shall  be  free 
indeed.  John  viii.  36. 

Stand  fast  therefore  in  the  liberty  wherewith  Christ  hath 
made  us  free.  Gal.  v.  1. 

For,  brethren,  ye  have  been  called  unto  liberty. 

Gal  v.  13. 

As  free,  and  not  using  your  liberty  for  a  cloak  of  malicious 
ness,  but  as  the  servants  of  God.  1  Pet.  ii.  16. 

For  he  that  is  called  in  the  Lord,  being  a  servant,  is  the 
Lord's  freeman  ;  likewise  also  he  that  is  called,  being  free,  is 
Christ's  servant.  1  Cor.  vii.  22. 

"  He  is  a  freeman  whom  the  truth  makes  free, 
And  all  are  slaves  beside."  Cowper. 


NOTES.  187 

NOTE  2.    PAGE  57. 

The  Law  of  Honour  is  constructed  by,  and  for  the  use  of, 
people  of  fashion.  Dr.  Paley's  Moral  Philosophy. 

NOTE  3.    PAGE  59. 
Alexander  Hamilton. 


IMPEOBITY. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  64. 

In  less  favoured  spots,  the  want  of  food,  arising  from  the 
want  of  institutions  to  secure  property,  leads  people  even  to 
devour  each  other.  Dr.  Paley. 

NOTE  2.    PAGE  69. 

He  that  getteth  riches,  and  not  by  right,  shall  leave  them 
in  the  midst  of  his  days,  and  at  his  end  shall  be  a  fool. 

Jer.  xvii.  11. 

CALUMNY. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  76. 
Domitian. 

DEATH  THE  DELIVERER. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  105. 

Unto  God  the  Lord  belong  the  issues  from  death. 

Ps.  Ixviii.  20. 


188  NOTES. 

\ 
NOTE  2.     PAGE  106. 

There  the  wicked  cease  from  troubling;  and  there  the 
weary  be  at  rest.  Job  iii.  17. 

NOTE  3.     PAGE  106. 

The  righteous  is  taken  away  from  the  evil  to  come.  He 
shall  enter  into  peace.  Isa.  Ivii.  1,  2. 

NOTE  4.    PAGE  107. 

My  kinsfolk  have  failed,  and  my  familiar  friends  have  for 
gotten  me.  Job  xix.  14. 

NOTE  5.     PAGE  107. 

A  good  name  is  better  than  precious  ointment ;  and  the  day 
of  death  than  the  day  of  one's  birth.  Eccles.  vii.  1. 

NOTE  6.    PAGE  107. 

Come  unto  me,  all  ye  that  labour  and  are  heavy  laden,  and 
I  will  give  you  rest.  Matt.  xi.  28. 

And  I  heard  a  voice  from  heaven  saying  unto  me,  Write, 
Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  henceforth : 
Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their  labours  ; 
and  their  works  do  follow  them.  Rev.  xiv.  13. 

NOTE  7.    PAGE  107. 

Terrors  take  hold  on  him  as  waters,  a  tempest  stealeth  him 
away  in  the  night.  Job  xxvii.  20. 

NOTES.    PAGE  108. 

He  that  hath  suffered  in  the  flesh  hath  ceased  from  sin. 

1  Pet.  iv.  1. 


NOTES.  189 

NOTE  9.    PAGE  108. 

God  destroyeth  the  perfect  and  the  wicked.        Job  ix.  22. 

One  dieth  in  his  full  strength,  being  wholly  at  ease  and 
quiet.  His  breasts  are  full  of  milk,  and  his  bones  are 
moistened  with  marrow.  And  another  dieth  in  the  bitter 
ness  of  his  soul,  and  never  eateth  with  pleasure.  They  shall 
lie  down  alike  in  the  dust,  and  the  worms  shall  cover  them. 

Job  xxi.  23-26. 

I  have  said  to  corruption,  Thou  art  my  father:  to  the 
worm,  Thou  art  my  mother,  and  my  sister.  Job  xvii.  14. 

There  is  no  discharge  in  that  war.  Ecdes.  vinV  8. 

What  man  is  he  that  liveth,  and  shall  not  see  death  ? 

Ps.  Ixxxix.  48. 

Thou  carriest  them  away  as  with  a  flood  ;  they  are  as  a 
sleep :  in  the  morning  they  are  like  grass  which  groweth  up. 
In  the  morning  it  flourisheth,  and  groweth  up ;  in  the 
evening  it  is  cut  down,  and  withereth.  Ps.  xc.  5,  6. 


A  THOUGHT. 

NOTE  1.     PAGE  130. 

The  nitrate  of  silver  in  solution  in  water  is  translucent, 
but  exposed  to  the  sun,  becomes  black. 


WOEK  WHILE  IT  IS  DAY. 

NOTE  1.     PAGE  140. 

Where  their  worm  dieth  not,  and  the  fire  is  not  quenched. 

Mark  ix.  44. 

Their  worm    shall    not    die,   neither    shall  their  fire  be 
quenched.  Isa.  Ixvi.  24. 


190  NOTES. 

NOTE  2.    PAGE  140. 
Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,  that  shall  he  also  reap. 

Gal  vi.  7. 

NOTE  3.    PAGE  140. 

Work  out  your  own  salvation  with  fear  and  trembling. 

Phil.  ii.  12. 

NOTE  4.    PAGE  140. 

And  let  us  not  be  weary  in  well  doing :  for  in  due  season 
we  shall  reap,  if  we  faint  not.  Gal.  vi.  9. 


NOTE  5.     PAGE  141. 

For  even  when  we  were  with  you,  this  we  commanded  you, 
that  if  any  would  not  work,  neither  should  he  eat. 

2  Thess.  iii.  10. 


NOTE  6.     PAGE  141. 

Not  slothful  in  business;    fervent  in  spirit;    serving  the 
Lord.  Rom.  xii.  11. 


NOTE  7.    PAGE  141. 

For  God  hath  not  given  us  the  spirit  of  fear ;  but  of  power, 
and  of  love,  and  of  a  sound  mind.  2  Tim.  i.  7. 


NOTE  8.    PAGE  141. 

But  be  ye  doers  of  the  word,  and  not  hearers  only,  de 
ceiving  your  own  selves.  James  i.  22. 


NOTES.  191 

NOTE  9.    PAGE  141. 

Not  every  one  that  saith  unto  me,  Lord,  Lord,  shall  enter 
into  the  kingdom  of  heaven ;  but  he  that  doeth  the  will  of 
my  Father  which  is  in  heaven.  Matt.  vii.  21. 

NOTE  10.     PAGE  141. 
Therefore  let  us  not  sleep.  1  Thess.  v.  6. 

NOTE  11.     PAGE  141. 

Neither  did  we  eat  any  man's  bread  for  naught;  but 
wrought  with  labour  and  travail  night  and  day,  that  we 
might  not  be  chargeable  to  any  of  you.  2  Thess.  iii.  8. 

NOTE  12.     PAGE  141. 

Wist  ye  not  that  I  must  be  about  my  Father's  business  ? 

Luke  ii.  49. 

NOTE  13.     PAGE  141. 
[Jesus]  went  about  doing  good.  Acts  x.  38. 

NOTE  14.     PAGE  142. 

I  have  fought  a  good  fight,  I  have  finished  my  course,  I 
have  kept  the  faith.  2  Tim.  iv.  7. 

NOTE  15.     PAGE  142. 

Faith,  if  it  hath  not  works,  is  dead,  being  alone. 

James  ii.  17. 

NOTE  16.     PAGE  142. 

Blessed  is  that  servant,  whom  his  lord  when  he  cometh 
shall  find  so  doing.  Matt.  xxiv.  46. 


192  NOTES. 

NOTE  IT.     PAGE  142. 

Glory,  honour,  and  peace,  to  every  man  that  worketh  good. 

Horn.  ii.  10. 

NOTE  18.     PAGE  142. 

Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord  from  hence 
forth  :  Yea,  saith  the  Spirit,  that  they  may  rest  from  their 
labours ;  and  their  works  do  follow  them.  Rev.  xiv.  13. 


THE  INFINITE. 

NOTE  1.    PAGE  159. 

If  there  were  so  great  faith  in  earth  as  there  is  reward 
looked  for  in  heaven,  merciful  Lord,  what  love  should  we 
have  to  the  life  to  come  !  Tertuliian. 

VESPER  NOTES. 

NOTE  1.     PAGE  163. 
He  that  keepeth  thee  will  not  slumber.  Ps.  cxxi.  3. 

SONNET. 

NOTE  1.     PAGE  170. 

If  you  ask  why  Grod  created  the  world,  it  was  for  no  other 
cause  but  that  man  should  be  created  ;  if  you  demand  why 
man  was  created,  it  was  because  he  should  worship  his 
Creator  ;  if  you  ask  why  he  should  worship  his  Creator,  it  was 
for  no  other  cause  but  that  he  should  be  rewarded  by  Him. 
Lactantius,  Lib.  VI.  de  Divin.  proem. 


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